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I -HOME, SWEET HOME." | 

IN THREE ACTS. ' i^ 



CHAS. W. SEYMOUR 



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ICvi-rv line for himself. " — Sii.\kiv 



NKW VOIJK: 

rHlNTim KOI! TIJK AITIIOi; |;Y 

I-I.OCKIIART, HOOPER A- CO. 
Ill WILLIAiM STKI-.ET. 









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TMPS6-006421 



HOME, SWEET HOME. 



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Mr. NICHOLAS FLUSH (a Millionaire, aqed 83). 
LEOPOLD HAARBAUER, M.D., Ph.D. {an Eclec- 
tic in Medicine). 
Mr. BLAOKSTONE FORTEW, LL.D. {a Counselor 

a' Ij'vw possss-d of /he judicial mind). 
Mr. ARISTOTLE J. SHORT {a nephew of the eel- 

ebrated Grammarian). 
Mr. a. LEWIN GREENE (a pmng man of the 

period, livinr/ on hope). 
MIGNONETTE (one thM teas loved). 
MISS JANE FLUSH (sister of the Millionaire, aged 

7S). 
Mrs. ARISTOTLE J. SHORT (a wife and a mo/her). 
MISS EDITH LEWELLYN GRACE SHORT (the 

eldest — who qe's him). 
MISS ELSIE DE FOREST NITA SHORT ( the 

youn'ies' — icho toa<rs him). 
MISS BRIDGET BEGORRA (a lady in service). 
BIJOU ( one that is loved) 



«• Time — Present. Scene — Anywhere. 



ACT I. 
Marriage ! 

Scene 1. Residence of Mr. Flush, (Ten dai/s supposed, to 
elapse beticeeti this S'Miiie ail Scene I. ) 

Scene 2. House of Mr. Short. {Tlive iceeks supposed to 
elapse tjeticeen this Scene and Scene 3.) 

Scene 'A. House of Mr. Short. (Seven weeks supposed to 
elapse between thi< Act and Act II.) 

ACT H. 

Madness!! 

Scene. House of Mr. Flush. (Ten months supposed to elapse 
t)etween this Act and Act III.) 

ACT HI. 

Death ! ! ! 

Scene the same as Act H. 



HOME, SWEET HOME." 



ACT I. 



Scene 1. — Room in the house of Mr. Flush. Furniture 
plain and substantial — very old-Jashioned — loalls bare — ar- 
rangement formal. When ma-tain rises Dr. Haarbauer dis- 
covered at Table l. c. Fort, on chair l. c. Large chair L. pr. 

Fort. It wouldn't alter my opinion if he'd worn it for ten 
years. 

Dr. H. (angrih/) Veil, und you tink dot of my Elegdrig Pad. 
I tink dot of your lawyers. To my mind it is a vorse hombogs for 
vun man mitt vun hett und vun mind at vu>i time to tink he can 
be on two sides of everytings— und be honest. 

Fort. Haarbauer, you liave never got over that case I com- 
promised for you. 

Dr. H. Dot's it compromise everytings. 

Fort. You were wi'ong, depend upon it. Now^ I dont like these 
continual insinuations. Why am I on both sides of "everytings,") 
as you ungrammatically call it? Is it my fault? Am I to blame 
that I am such a respectable Attorney that I am always retain- 
ed by both sides in every case of importance ? I am not ashamed 
of it ! It's a good thing for me, it just doubles my income, and 
its a good thing for my clients — although that is of minor impor- 
tance — for it insures them an attorney of equal aljility on eacli 
side. But to say or to insinuate that I cannot be honestly on 
both sides at once is false, sir. Lawyers like myself have what is 
known as judicial minds. They can talk with one party and ad- 
vise him, and talk with his opponent and advise him without any 
interest in either — without a grain of partiality for either — if the 
retainers be equal and paid. All our gi-eat jurists, sir, have been 
possessed of just this quality of mind. 



6 HOME, SWEET HOME. [Act 1. 

Dr. H. All right, ve voiit quoroll, but die next time I lief a 
case mit lawyers — I lief vuii vat vill slitay on die same side mit 
me until ve get droo anyhow, my gracious ! 

Fort. No, we wont quarrel. We have too many interests in 
common, besides being very old friends. I wonder wiiat Flnsii 
wants us for? I've got an engagement: I dnnv old Watkins's Will 
last week. He died yesterday, his son retained me to-day to 
contest it, and the widow sent me word she wanted to see me 
on the other side, at nine this evening. 

Dr. H. Vot's die matter now mit dot vill, my gracious 

Fort. The old gei'itleman directed his executrix to provide 
a headstone for his grave, and John thinks it will be a useless 
expense. 

Dr. H. How much cost die iieadcheese ? 

Fort. Head.sto^p — Oh, tifteen dollars or so. 

Dr. H. Und how much cost die lawyers to break die vill — 
five thousand dollars, maylie? 

Fort. Yes, I should calculate to get that — out of the two 
sides. 

Dr. H. Veil— dofs i)isness ! 

(fi/^^er Jane, c, knittiui/.) 

J. {Comhig doiiui niul sitting l. o. ) Good evening. Doctor, — 
and Mr. Fortew. Brother will be here in a moment. 

Fort. Do you know why he has sent for us ? 

J. No, only I fancy it's something about his affairs — after his 
death. I think lately he's realized how old he is — and lie's been 
getting everything ready. Perhaps he wants to talk with you 
about me — when he is gone — liut he need not trouble his dear 
old head — for I couldn't last long then. Seventy eight years we've 
lived under the same roof — boy and girl — man and woman — 
brother and sister. 

Dr. H. Und such a sister, My gracious ! 

J. I have tried to be a good sister; he has deserved it. He 
has been a good brother to me all these years. 

Dr. H. How could he help et — my gracious ! 

Fort. Go it, old Chesterfield — what manners you've got ! 

J. Brother is remarkably smart for a man of his years, and 
considering all he's been through. 

Dr. H. Vy take vat I knows myself — two strikes of jiaralysis, 
lumbago chronic, and gout for thirty-nine year — und vet shtand 



Act l.J HOME, SWEET HOME. 7 

ii],_liett clear. Vot a Constitusluui ! Dey make none such now. 
Villi leetle draft of air— unt die friends invited to die funeral. 
Your bruder may last mit care— vuii— two year yet— wlio can 
dell vot vill do my i)ad ! My gracious ! 

.J. He thinl-LS they do him good— with his magnetic trovvsers 
and galvanized undershirt — which, by the way, he sent around 
this morning to be more strongly charged — did you get it ? 

i)R. H. I suppose dey hef him in die Battery. I hef not been 
dei'e to-(hiy. 

.J. Brother says when he wears them altogether— they prickle. 

Dr. H. (delighted)! believe him. You hear dot mein frient? 
Do hombogs prickle ? Ha ! ha ! my gracious ! 
Enter Flush L., cane in hand, totters in rntlier feetdy and out 
of breath. J. fixes chair for him, L. fr., helps him carefid- 
ly into it — inds pillow behind his back and rest tinder foot — 
raising it tenderhj — all her actions (diout him fidl of care 
and solicitude. 

Mr. Fl. How d'ye do. Doctor? How d'ye do, Fortew? Thank 
you for coming. That will do Jane, you go now— I want to have 
a little talk with my old cronies here all alone— I'll call you if I 
want anything. 

J. {WhiS2)ers to Fl.) 

Fl. Oh ! very comfortable, I'll get along very well. 

J. {Erit ('., turning affectionately towards Fl. as she goes out. ) 
Dear old Brother ! 

Mr. Fl. Ah ! ha ! Tliere goes one in a thousand, boys ! 

Dr. H. One in a million — my gracious ! 

F(jrt. "Well, Mr. Flush, I am in somewhat of a hurry ; can we 
come to business, so I can get away. You sent for us — 

Mr. Fl. Yes, yes, one moment; my back is very lame to-day, 
Doctor. Ah. {rubbing it.) 

Dr. H. Perhaps die pads hef shliiiped — 

Mr. Fl. No — they haven't — they're all right. Well, I'm going 
to surprise you. I — I am — going — to — get — married! 

Fort, {much .surprised) By the Lord — Chancellor! 

Dr. H. {astonis7ied) My gracious ! 

Mr. Fl. ( feeling in his pocket ) Pshaw ! I've left a paper I 
wanted — in my room. I will get it. {rites slowly and totters out) 

Dr. H. Veil ! How's dot for a constitution ? Dot is die pad 
vot hef shtarted him, my gracious ! 



8 HOME, SWEET HOME. [Act 1. 

Fort. We've nothing to lose by it. Tie's made no Will, so 
we'll lose no legacy, and — it may m cc business— more demand for 
pads. Ha ! ha ! And you never can tell what a marriage will do 
for the law — until both parties and all their descendants are dead, 
buried, and their place of sepulture forgotten. 

Dr. II. Ve vill seem i)leased, eh ? ► 

Fort. Yes, we'll smile and encourage him ? 

Dr. H. Vot old hombogs ve ar — ourselves. 

Fort. Nonsense, friends — old friends. 

Dr. H. Dot's vot I say — hombogs. 

(Mr. Fl. re-enters, l., loith a crumpled yellow paper in hand, 
and resumes his seat. ) 

Mr. Fl. I suppose you will think I am too old a man to have 
such an idea. Eighty-three years old — three months ago; but 
after all what are a few years so long as the heart keeps young ? 

Dr. H. Dot's it, mit your elegdric clothes — veil charged — you 
vill shtill talk as fast as any voman — dot is — most any. 

Mr. Fl. I have lieen all my life, as you know, devoted to bus- 
iness — bound down hand and foot, heart and soul to it. Sixty- 
two j^ears at the same work in the same place; no recreation, no 
leisure, until I gave it up two years ago. Well, I made a fortune, 
and a large fortune, and I made it myself, and I made it honestly. 
There is not a dollar of it that I am ashamed to-day to call my 
own. 

Dr. H. Dot's saying a goot deal now-a-days. 

Mr. Fl. Such a thing as marriage never entered my head 
until two weeks ago I was clearing out some of my oldest papers 
and I came on this {holding iip paper). What do you think it is? 

Dr. H. Some fly paper vot you carried your lunch in to school? 

Mr. Fl. No, a love letter. The only one I ever got {opens 
paper). "May 10th, 1812. My darting Nick" — I had forgotten 
that letter and its writer, and I have not yet been able to recollect 
the writer's name. It is signed "Your own Mamie." But when 
I saw it and read as much of it as I could decipher I had the same 
feeling come over me as when I first saw it. I felt my hear start 
up and thump and my cheeks burn. The first time they had even 
been warm m thirty years. A sort of thrill passed all through 
me, from my gouty toes up to my bald head, and suddenly it all 
seemed to come back. And while I could not remember her 



Act 1.] HOME, SWEET HOME. 9 

na'iie I did re-iiember vau'uely two l)rown eyes, red lips, soft 
pink cheelvs and a voice that I h iv > not lieard tlie like of for 
sweetness or softness since. And I remembered how fond we 
w(n-e of each otlier. So fond tlial we even liked to go out in the 
ni'jiht air, in the moonshine to.ijether. I may be gettins; to be a 
l)articularly foolish old fool, but tliose tlioughts and feelings have 
stayed witli me since tliat day. They must have been only slum- 
bering all tliese years. In this old body of mine, shrunken and 
dry, the heart has grown young again and fairly leaps up against 
my chest now that I speak of it all. 

Dr. H. ■'It is die pad — my gracious ! Vot a great idea dot vos 
of mine! 

Mr. Fl. I don't care what it is. It has changed me. I have 
a i)nde in my appearance now. I don't tliink I am such a bad look- 
in.!,- fellow, take it all together, when my chin is clean. I find 
myself reading the ^marriage notices every morning. I have read 
tln-ee novel?— the first of my Ufe. One, called "Fair Little Ldian 
and Her Love Story," I finished without once laying it down, 
except to get the cramps out of my fingers, and to have my back 
rubt)ed. I walk out now on the street, among the shops in the after- 
noons and he ! he ! Now dont laugh at me, boys — I look at the girls. 
I f(>el like a gouty knight — a troubadour grown stiff' in the joints, 
or Mu- other fellon' who loves all lovely. women. And now it has 
all settled down into a purpose — to marry a wife — to bring a lovely 
woman here into my own house — for myself — one on whom I can 
pour out tiie tenderness that seems fairly welling up within me. I 
wanted to tell you this — and I want your advice. Now whom shall 
I marry? 

Dr. H. Veil dere's old Vidow Flopp. She moost vay now 
some 220 pounds. 

Fort. Th n-^'s old Miss Spine. She must be 65 and has had 
quite a legacy. 

Mr. Fl. I dont want any of your old widows, or old maids, or 
legacies. I have money enough for two. I want some one who 
is young and sweet, loving and artless, pretty and innocent.. "Who 
will come here to our home and brighten it up like sunshine. Who 
will cheer us with merry laughter, jest and song. Who will have 
bright eyes and a winning smile, and childlike manners — like 
Lilian, in tlie novel — like my own Mamie, in the love-letter, whose 
last name I have forgotten. 



10 HOME, SWEET HOME. [Act i. 

Dr. H. Vot a man to talk — my gracious. You almost make 
me feel like yourself. You shtir oop my old blood. And if I vas 
not a great-grandfader und my daughter und her grandchildren 
did not lif mit me I vould marry sometings so myself— my 
gracious ! 

Mr. Fl. There are plenty of young, artless and pretty women 
about now-a-days. 

Dr. H. Idelljou von — Miss Greene. lalvays vatch her^cross 
die street — She haf beautiful leetle foot, dot girl. 

Fort. You old sinner! What has a great-grandfather to do 
with pretty feet? 

Dr. H. Veil, a great-grandfader can hef his feelings, maybe — 
I tink — my gracious ! 

Mr. Fl. I have one young lady in mind — that is, one of two 
in mind, Aristotle Shorts' daughters. They are both pretty, 
sweet, bright loolving girls, only just out of school, and so must 
be artless, innocent and childlike. 

Fort. Ah ! They are pretty. I saw them only yesterday, 
walking down street. One with Widow Greenes' boy and the 
other carrying a little dog. They had cunning caps on, just alike, 
jauntily set on one side of their heads, little sacques trimmed 
just alike, and I could see their dapper little feet twinkling under 
their skirts like black stars in a sky of red Hannel — I could have 
kissed them. 

Dr. H. {bantn-i)i<jly) My gracious — vot should a old fellow 
mit a judicial mind hef to do mit young ladies feet twinkling, 
eh? ha! ha! 

Fort. Oh ! keep still ! 

Mr. Fl. To tell you the trutl , I have made \\\) my mind to 
propose for one of them. In fact, t(. be frank with you, I have 
already opened up a correspondence with Mr. Short, on the 
subject, with every prospect of success. 

Fort. Then what did you want us for? After you have set- 
tled it all you ask our advice. You are like all my clients. They 
come to me for counsel and then do as they please. 

Dr. H. Dot's vere dey is vise. 

Mr. Fl. The fact is, my principal reason for sending for you 
was to ask you to do me a favor. {Doctor and Fort, look blankly 
at one another. ) I want you to help me. You are my oldest 



Act 1.] HOME, SWEET HOME. 11 

and dearest friends, and I don't think I have ever asked you be- 
fore to do anything for me out of friendship. I want you both — 
or one of you — to lireak this matter considerately and — not too 
al )ruptly — to ni y — si<te". 

Dr. H. Oh ! my gracious ! 

Fort. You don't mean to say you have not tohl her your, 
plans? 

Mr. Fl. Not one word of them. I have not had the courage. 

Fort. Well, Doctor, you do it. You have such manners — 
and — I haven't. Good night ! 

Dr. H. Here, don't go. I cannot. I could not shtand die 
look in her eyes. It makes me shake ven I tink of it. 

F(jRT. Well, put on a pad and let it prickle awhile. 

Mr. Fl. Oil ! don't leave me in the lurch. I really have not 
the heart to tell her. And .vet it must be done, and at once. 
Help me out ! 

Fort. I'll tell you what we will do. Doctor and I will sit here 
and back you up— If you will do it right awa.y — eh. Doctor? 

Dr. H. Yell. 

^1k. H. That's much better tlian lieing alone with her. She 
will control herself before jou — for -lane is very proud, Jane is. 
Yes, that's a capital arrangement. I don't hesitate at all now — 
It's wonderful what courage we — C(tUs) Jane, Jane, Jane! 

J. {irif/iouf) Yes, brother. \ Enters, c.) 

Mr. Fl. Are you busy, Jane? 

J. Well, I was tixing your night plaster — that is all. 

;Mr. Fl. I have got something to say to yori — very particularly. 
• Sit down, {ft 11 a, l.) 

J. (aside.) I know what's coming — all about death and will 
and my provision. I can't bear to think of it — and I am sure 
he cant. So I will make it as easy as possible for him. 

Mr. Fl. Jane. 

J. Yes, brother. 

Mr. Fl. You and I have lived together alone a long time. 

J. Yes, so we have — so long that if any change hapjiened to 
one I don't think the other would last very long. 

Mr. Fl. Yes— but we are getting old, Jane — and rustj'^and — 

J. Yes, lirother — we are both growing old — almost home — 
nothing left to do but to put everything in order. I can't bear 



12 HOME, SWEET HOME. [Act 1. 

to think of it, but I cannot fail to realize that you have reached 
that age when you may be called away at any time.. Nor can I 
blame you for dwelling upon it and preparing for it. It would 
not be right for you to do otherwise. 

Mr. Fl. {embarra,<^sed, Yes — Jane — Yes, of course, but aiiit 
you afraid that plaster will get cold if you don't attend to it ? 

J. (SKi-pi-iscd) Of course it will— but I thought you wanted to 
speak to me. 

Mr. Fl. (tnnocetitli/) I? 

J. Certainly, you called me. Your memory, Brotlier, I am 
afraid, is beginning to — 

Mr. Fl. Not at all Jane — not at all. I rememlier perfectlj', 
I did call you, but it's of no consequence — I'll tell you some other 
tim e, to-m orrow — m ayl )e. 

J. Very well Itrother. Only I wisli you had not called me 
away, I shall have it all to do over again, {e.cit, c. ) 
Dr. H. Yell? 

Mr. Fl. I couldn't — I couldn't. 

Dr. H. I don't blame you — vot you do now, my gracious? 
Mr. Fl. Oh ! I don't know. She'll have to know. Perhaps 
I'll write to her and then go out and spend tiie day. 

Fort. Ahem ! I suppose! could l)e retained professin)i((Uy to 
do it myself. 
Mr. Fl. (cMif/hted) Will you ? 

Fort. I don't say I will, but I will say that I have yet to make 
my first refusal of any ofi'ered retainer — in any case — whatever. 
Mr. Fl. {delighted) Name your own terms. I'll do it. 
Fort. Here goes then. {e.cif,v,.) 

Dr. H. Vot a shtomach hef die judicial mind for money 
my gracious. 

CURTAIN. 



Scene II. — Room in kou.se of Mr. Short. Contrast to frat 
Scene — FnmUure modern and showy — muh color —orna- 
tnent, &c. When curtain nses, Mr. S. at upper end table, c; 
Mrs. S., l.; Edith and Elsie, r., one on sofa, other on chair. 
All apparently much excited. Elsie lolth Micvoxette in arms 
all through-scene. 
Mrs. S. i ask you a simple question. Aristotle. It cannot 

reciuire a very great expenditure of the intellect itdierited from 



Act 1.] HOME. SWEET HOME. 13 

your uncle the graininaii mi, witli your ('iiphonious name, to 
answer it. 

Mr. S. But, Matild I, what ha^ that to do with it ? 

Mrs. S. It has thif to do vvitli it, Aristotle, that /. your wife, 
ask you that question. Wiio weaned those girls ? 

Mr. S. Well, I answer briefly, i/ou did. But what that has to 
do with it — 

Mrs. S. You may well say / did. Yes, 1 was the one then. 
I was the one who slaved, and toiled and worried. I was the 
one who grated their gums early and late, who trotted their little 
pains with such maternal i)erseverance that we were complained 
of by the people under us for shaking the pendants ofl' their chan- 
delier. While you, you limited your care of your infant children 
to giving Edith o«e drink in the night, and that a drink of lamp 
oil from the night taper glass, and to waking me out of my sound 
sleei) with ' ' Matilda, I think Elsie's got the croup again, " while you 
rolled over and slept — and snored. And now when the supreme 
moment of their lives has arrived, you think all this should go for 
nothing, and that you should be the only one to have a word to 
say. Oh ! It's just like you men — self—self^self. 

Mr. S. Well, Matilda, wiiile you take breath for a fresh start, 
I will simply observe, that I don't know what you mean by your 
seJf—self^self. I certainly do not want to marry the old gentle- 
man myself. I doubt if I could legally, though law is a queer 
thing. I simply suggest that Edith being the eldest — 

Mrs. S. And your favorite. 

Mr. 8. No, Mrs. Short, that is not true, as I have tokl you daily, 
since Elsie's birth there is no ditierence m my afi'ection for my two 
girls. I say, being the eldest — 

Mrs. S. Eldest. Stutt' and nonsense ! what possible difterence 
can a year and eight months make to a century ? 

Mr. S. Well, beside the question of age, I think Edith is more 
quiet and retiring, and less likely to have another chance. In fact 
I think Elsie a little better able to look around for herself. She 
has much of your strong, robust character, your — 

Mrs. S. {pxssioiuttely and grouying almost hysterical) 
That's right, turn me into ridicule and make a butt of me. I'm 
your wife, so taunt me, slight me, trample on me, strike me, tear 



J4 HOME, SWEET HOME. [Act 1. 

me limb from limb. I am the mother of yonr cliiklren, so insult 
me, I am a — 

Mr. 8. Now, Matilda, stop — -s/o^J — you are getting into one of 
your tantrums. I'll send for a i)ail of water. Remember how 
wet you got the last time you had one. * {Mrs. S. gradnafly 
during the following, sobs less and less violeiitly and quiets 
doicn sornewhat.) If you will listen to me a moment and be 
rational, you will find there is no occasion for temper.^ I have no 
fixed determination in this matter. I have only suggested a 
preference. I am perfectly willing to change my mind for reason- 
able cause. It seems to me after all, the question better be left to 
the girls than settled by us; they are the princii)al parties inter- 
ested. If they agree as I)etween themselves, I shan't stand in the 
way, and I am sure, like a sensible woman, you will not. 

Mrs. S. (drying her eyes,) Certainly not. As long as you 
talk re ;sonal)ly and give Elsie the chance, I shall stand in nobody's 
way. 

Edith. Yes, but Ma, 1 want the old bag-o'-bones, and I think 
as Pa has had to work for us, and clothe us, and feed us all our 
lives, it ought to count for ust as much as your trotting and 
weaning. 

Mrs. S. Edith Lewellyn (rrace Short, you are forgetting 
yourself I 

Elsie. I tliink poor, dear Ma is perfectly right to think tliat 
after all she's done for us she sliould not be allowed to say a single 
word — it's shanteful. 

Mr. S. Elsie De Forest Nita Short, you are forgetting yourself ! 

Edith. Elsie gets every single thing. She had her corn col- 
ored silk all made over new, while / have to wear mine without any 
change, except a nasty old overskirt that makes it look as old 
as the hills, and a little mean ruffle that makes it look as ugly as 
sin. {undertone) It's all i)artiality on Ma's part, that's what it 
is, and Pa has to pay for it all. 

Mrs. S. Stop that everlasting grumbling ! 

Elsie. Edith's engaged already, and I've been out of school 
six weeks, and tliis will lie the first ofier I've had, if it comes to me. 

Edith. Well, what have I got f Now, come; Lewin Greene — a 
great catch he is. Not one cent except what his Ma chooses to 
allow biTr>. uiid won't have till she dies, and she is only forty-two, 



Act l.J HOME, vSWEET HOME. 15 

and you know perfectly well that the engagement is only condi- 
tional. If I can do any better, I am to do it. 

Elsie. Well. 

Edith. "Well. Diiln't you make a time about it till you gbt 
just as good? Didn't Pa have to go get you your dog, so that neither 
one of us should have more than the other ? And if it comes to 
that, you can have Lewin Greene, too, if you want him. If I can 
have the other. 

Elsie. Oh! Thanks; how kind. I wouldn't deprive you of the 
treasure. 

Edith. Well, Miss, you needn't stick up your nose at him ; he 
beats nothing all to pieces. 

Elsie. Does he ? I suppose that's the reason you thought it 
wise to take him. 

Edith. Ah ! Ah ! Smartie. You haven't had anything to 
■take." 

Elsie. Well, I wouldn't have taken him, if he had proposed 
till he was black in the face. 

Edith. You would, you would, you would. Sour grapes • 
sour grapes ! {During this disciLSsion Mr. and Mrs. Short have 
been in earnest discussion) 

Mrs. S. Wiiat do we care for his comfort or his feelings, and as 
to that Elsie would be just as likely to make him happy as Edith, 
although, of course, you don't think so. 

{Enter Lewin Greene irit/i book in hand, rushes to Edith.) 

Greene. I got it, Edie, I got it, you're welcome. 

Edith, {impatiently) What ? 

Greene. Why, " The China Hunter's Adventures amongst Old 
Pots and Kettle-s," that j'ou wanted so much, with one hundred 
and fifteen pictures. I got the money from Ma. She said you 
were making me — or, rather, her— awfully extravagant. But I 
don't care. 

'E.MiTH [impatiently pushing it away.) Oh! I don't want it 
now. I've something older than that to think about. 

Greene, {surprised, looking from one to another-) Why, any — 
anything wrong ? 

Mrs. S. Only a proposal has been made for Elsie, and, as usual, 
Mr. S. must have a discussion about it. 

Greene. Why, that's awfully jolly, Elsie. AVlio is it ? 



l(i HOME, SWKET HOME. [Act 1. 

KoiTii. II w.isii't male foi' Elsit^ any inort' than for ine. He has 
always said and writ^en, ••ono ()fy(iurdaaj,hters," without saynig 
which. Fie don't know us ap irt. 

CiKEEy {eac/eri>/]. Yes; 5ut gracious me, Edie! You couldn't 
go and accept any — any otter. You're-mine, you know. 

Editii. Xo, I'm not. You know perfectly well it was only coii- 
ditionil upo!i n;)thinj: better turiiiiiii' u\). and sometliini!,' i)etter 
has turned n\). 

Green". Yes; hut , you surely won't throw me overboard. Oh, 
please don't. After the heaps of things I've "iven you. or ratiier 
tliat ina has given you. Why, I've ^ot so used to coming here 
evenings and things, it would seem awfully funny to me not to. 
• Edith. Well go to Elsie; she'll luive you, she's so loving and 
sisterly and oliliging to-night. 

Elsie. No, I won't. Edith can keep you for ever and ever, 
for all I care. Slie wants everything — greedy. 

Green. Yes; Ijut Mr. and Mrs. Short, please think of me a 
little in this matter; I'm so awfully fond of Edie. I've told Ma 
that if anything should happen between Elie and I, it would 
drive me to something wicked. I ])eluve I'd smoke, ami that 
would almost kill Ma. Let Edie— 
(Mr. and Mrs. S. ?iave continued their di'^cussion.) 
.Mr. .< yimpaMently.] Will you ke^p (luiet, sir. Don't add to this 
pandemonium. It's eiraugh ta drive a man distracted^as it \r. 

Edith. AVell, I should think Pa might be master in his own 
house without all this talk. 

Mrs. S. Edith Lewellyn Grace Short, you are forgetting 
yourself again ! 

Elsie. And I shoulil think Ma might have her own way once 
in a while ! 

Mr. Short. Silence ! 

Mrs. S. Oh, no, my daugliter, your Ma has no right to any 
opinion: she is only tit to be turned into ridicule, to be made a 
butt of. (Bursting into tears, and gradually becoming excited.) 
Mr.S. (losing all patience) i^io\i—&'^o\>\ Edith, go tell them to 
send up a pail of water; the colder, the letter; and if that won't 
stop it, I tell you as sure as my name is Aristotle Short, I'll send 
word to the old man that he sha'n't have either; that we decline his 
otter altogether. 



Act 1.] HOME, SWEET HOME. 17 

Mrs. S. {sobered.) Oh! You don't mean that. You can't 
mean that. I'll try to be calm, I really will. I feel I can control 
myself now. Why this is the one chance of our lives. You say 
thnes are so hard, and business dull, and you tell us we must be 
so economical, and all at once this ofter comes like-a-a rainbow 
of promise. I won't be naughty any more, Aristotle, only please 
don't si)eak al)out declining the offer. It takes my breath away. 

Mr. S. Well then, come to a settlement at once. He will be 
here at eight o'clock, and it only wants ten miimtes of it. There 
must not be one trace of this ridiculous S(|uabble seen. 

Mrs. S. . I don't know who is S(iual)ljling, as you inelegantly 
call it. 

Mr. 8. Oh, I am, of course, all by myself. 

Mrs. S. {coa.cini/fi/.) Now Aristotle, dear husband, don't be 
ill-tempered; let's settle this at once — you and me. Say Elsie, 
and I'll be a real good, amiable wife all the rest of my life — and 
never, never have a tantrum again, if — if I can help it. 

Mr. S. It would do no good for us to agree — look there ! 
(EoiTir and Elsie seen making faces at one another, and Lewin, 
in despair, watching Edith's every movement.) 

Edith. Well, I want him, anyhow ! 

Elsie. So do I, and I guess my wants are just as good as 
yours. 

Greexe. (complaining/)/.) But please, somebody, think of 
my troul)le. I can't bear to tiiink of leaving this familj' — it's a 
nice family, a real nice family, and I like to belong to it. 

Ml. S. {peremptorily.) Will you keep quiet? You don't 
belong to this family yet, and if you say one word more to add to 
this confusit)n, you never will ! 

(Lewix subsides, and bursts into tears.) 
Edith, {solibinr/.) I've always just longed and longed to wear 
mourning, and if I got the old man I would soon have a chance. 
Elsie, {sobbing.) And you know how bewitching I'd look in 
a widow's cap ; and I've longed and longed for that, and if I mar- 
ried the old man, I'd soon have a chance. 
(Door bell heard.) 
Mr. S. There. I thought so, he's come, and a pretty state you're 
all in. Confound it all ! It's just my luck ! 
3 



18 HOME. SWEET HOME. [Act 1. 

Edith. Well, I don't want to give him up. 

Elsie. Neither do I — and I won't — 

Sir. S. {savagely.) Then I'll tell you what it is, either you 
two girls settle this in a minute, while the old gentleman is 
•retting his wraps ott, and just as I tell you, or back home he 
will go just as he came. There is only one way left now. and that 
is to put him up ; to raffle for him Ijetween you, as you would fcir a 
sofa cushion at a fair. 

Mrs. S. Aristotle J. Short, are you mad? 

Mr. S. Yes, I am ; and I shall have a tantrum in a moment 
that no amount of cold water will quiet. I have spent no end of 
money on you two girls, your boarding schools, your music, and 
your art, and you haven't learned the first rudiments of decency 
yet. 

Mrs. S. On dear ! oh dear ! {dropping into despondency. 
&c.) 

Mr. S. Yl^v^— {taking coin from his pocket). I"ve got a trade 
dollar in one of my hands. It's a very good representation, to 
my mind, of the value of the gi'and prize we are all after. Now, 
choose — quick — which hand will you have? The one that gets 
the dollar shall have the husband. 

{Leu'i/i peeks around, trying to see where the coin is 
Great excitement. The gir/s protest.) 

Mr. S. I hear him ; I think he has started up-stairs — quick. 
now or nerer! 

Elsie. Well, if I 7nitst, — I take the right. 

Edith. I was going to say that myself — I want it. 

Elsie. Well. I said it first. 

Edith. Well. I said it second, and I'm the oldest. 

Mr. S. All right; if you can't even agree on that, home he 
goes. 

Elsie. Well. I want the right — ^I said it first, and I'm going 
to stick to it. if he does go home. 

Edith. Oh, take it. I'll take your leavings as usual; give me 
the other — the left. 

Mr. S. {Presenting hands, shows coin iti lejl.) Edith, it's 
yours — yours, my little duck, and just as I wanted it. 

Elsie. Well, take it — piggie — i^iggie ! Ah ! 

Gkeene. {In despair.) Oh! Edie, and ain't I going to have 
vou? What shall I say to Ma— what will Ma say to me? 



Act 1.] HOME, SWEET HOME. 19 

EoiTH. Oh ! go away. Go to Elsie. She'll have you now ; 
I know her. 

Mrs. S. Well, I've seen disgraceful things, but this is the 
disgracefuUest ; and if I didn't hear him panting up the stairs, 1 
wouldn't submit to it. But it's too late now, and we must make 
the best of it. Here, get into some sort of decent ))ositions, 
quick. {Thrusts Short into chair, c, and tosses him j^a^er; 
forces Greene in chair, l., and gives him the book brought by 
him, held upside down; 2^laces Edith on sofa, and Elsie on 
Jloor by her side; seizes a tidy from chair and paper cutter from 
table, and pretends to be huiily working.) 

Mrs. S. Now, you two girls, the moment he shows himslef, I 
want you to smile sweetly at each other. Now ! 

(Mr. F. appears at c, tottering in, and then stops, apparently 
pleased, contemplating the family picture- — Thegirls, who have 
been making faces at one another, smile the moment he airpears, 
and continue to smile as long as he stands there- ) 

Mr. F. Ah! A charming family picture. Home, sweet home. 

Mr. S. (Starting up as if surprised. ) Ah ! My dear sir, 
(shakes hands with him,) you startled me. Why, I had no idea it 
was yet eight o'clock. Mrs. Short you have met; my daughters 
Edith and Elsie; and Mr. Greene, I think, you know. (Lewin 
Greene eyes him ferociously.) Time passes very quickly in the 
bosom of one's family. 

Mr. F. Yes, yes; and such a family. It looks very sweet to 
me; smihng faces, busy lingers; peace and love and unity. 

Mr. S. Yes, sir, that's — ahem — peace and love and unity, 

Mr. F. You are a happy man, Mr. Short, and even my old 
eyes can see this is a happy, happy home. 

Mr. S. Yes, sir — a happy, happy home, {aside, ) and it's for- 
tunate his eyes are no younger. (He helps the old gentleman into 
a seat — Mrs. S. busies herself about him.) 

Mrs. S. Does it feel warm enough for you, my dear sh- ? Aris- 
totle, darling, perhaps you had better close the register in the 
hall, and there will l)e more heat here. Edith, my own, get the 
foot-rest from the other room. 

Edith. Yes, precious Ma. (exit.) 

Mrs. S. Elsie, my bird, where is the hand-screen, perhaps the 
light is too strong for Mr. Flush. 



20 HOME, SWEET HOME. [Act 1. 

Flush. Oh! my dear madanie. (&*/fr ^mtii with foot -rest, 
which she places in front of him, and he raises one foot sloicly 
and places it upon it iinth evident pain.) Thanks — please don't 
take so much trou))lc. I am very comfortable, I assure you, and 
am charmed with all this generous attention. 

Mrs. S. Don't mention it. 

Mr. S. Don't mention it, sir, you are always welcome here. 
For years my wife and children and myself have been at a distance 
looking upon you with regard and admiration, as one of the few 
men who have come down to us — in a — with a — through a series 
of years in wliich for wliom — the regard of all — 

Edith, [aside to him.) Pa, you've lost your nominative. 

Mr. S. Yes, \Vs gone, {coughs repeatedly.) Oh! dear; I can't 
seem to get out of this cold, somehow. 

Mrs. S. Aristotle, dear, {motions with her head. ) 

Mr. S. Yes. You will excuse Mrs. Short and myself, Mr. 
Flush, if we now yield to the kmd wishes you have expressed to 
us, and give you an oi)i)ortunity of addressing our eldest daughter 
on the subject j'ou have mentioned to us. It will be a great 
surprise to the dear girl. AVe have carefully kept all suspicion of 
your purjiose from her. Mr. Greene, you and Elsie will please 
come with us. {A.'iide to Flush.) I wish you every success, but I 
cannot assure you of it. We long ago determined never to influ- 
ence our daughter's choice. Marriage has always seemed to us so 
solemn a thing, that no thought should be allowed to enter into 
the motives actuating it, ah — or their initiation — which that — 
not — is not — or rather, should not be — whenever — 

Edith. Pa, dear, {looking at him.) 

Mr. S. {Violently co^ighing again.) Matilda, darling, Fll take 
something for my cdugh, to-night. 

Mr. and Mrs. S., Elsie, Greene, and Mignonette ex- 
eunt, C. 

{Edith on sofa, R., pause. Mr. E., apparently a little 
flustered, takes out handkerchief and mops his head. 
Edith expressing in her face intense eagerness to have 
him begin.) 

Edith. It's been a pleasant daj\ 

Mr. F. Yes — yes; very mild and bright. 



Act 1.] HOME, SWEET HOME. 21 

Edith. I like pleasant days better than stormy ones, don't 
you sir ? 

Mr. F. Oh, yes, yes, my dear — I do so. 

Edith. Yes, sir, so do I. {Pause continues.) 

Edith. Yesterday was a pleasant day, sir. 

Mr. F. Yes, yes ; so it was, my dear— yes— (appare^*/^/ cibseut 
minded, thinking of what to say — another paitse.) 

Edith. Day before yesterday was not very pleasant ? 

Mr. F. No,' no ; it was not — no. 

Edith. Day before that was pleasant, (aside) Why don't he 
begin? he caiuiot expect ine to do all the entertainin"-. 

Mr. F. My dear Miss Edith — your name is Edith? 

Edith. Yes, sir— 'Edith Lewellyn Grace Short. 

Mr.- F. A pretty name. Well, my dear Miss Edith, let me ask 
you if you will be so kind as to take a seat near me. I am not 
as young as I was, and cannot move about very freely. (Edith 
takes low chair, and sits near him on left.) Will you excuse me 
if 1 rub my back a moment. I seem to have a special knick in it to- 
night, (rubs.) Ah, you've never had lumbago, have you ? 

Edith. {Smilinj sweetlij.) No, sir, but I've often thought I'd 
like to. I— I — took a great interest in the subject when at school. 
It always iiad a fascination for me. 

Mr. F. {Looking at her admiringli).) (ai-id'^) Intelligent girl ! 
{aloud.) I've had it oti' and on for forty .years. You — have j'ou 
— ever thought anything aljout marriage ? 

Edith, {starting — surprised.) Oil ! No, sir. Ma and Pa 
have always been very particular not to let us think about any 
such thing, and sister and I never think of thinking of anything 
that Ma and Pa think we ought not to think about. 

Mr. F. No, no — of course not. That's a good girl. I like to 
see that; obedience to parents is a great virtue. And I like your 
simple and pure-mindedness ; it's a rebuke to the slanders upon 
this age. Some people are continually slandering it. 

Edith. Are they, sir? I suppose you will think me a very 
silly, ignorant child; but sivSter and I have been so brought up and 
kept at school and so on, that we dont know anything about the 
age, or the world, or any naughty thing of that kind. All we know 
about is what was in our books, and that we love our darling Pa 
and Ma, and that we love each other. 



22 HOME, SWEET HOME. [Act I. 

Mr. F. {Pitt'ing haiidl>ervhief to eijes, affetp d.) My dear, it 
artl'cts me to see such sweet, childlike love and innocence, and I 
onlj' wish my sister Jane could be here, and I am sm'e she would 
change her mind about you. 

Edith. Is your sister Jane like you, sir ? 

Mr. F. Yes, my dear, very like me in many things. 

Edith. Oh, then I do wish she was here, too — very much. 

Mr. {(tside.) Charming little bird. Well, my dear Edith, I 
have your parent's permission to speak to you about marriage, 
and to ask you to think about it. I want you to think about it 
now. If you should ever marry, what kind of a man would you 
select for a husband ? 

Edith, {coyly.) Will Pa and Ma let me think of that too? 

Mr. F. Yes; now would it not be a young man, handsome, 
strong, and full of fun and frolic and spirits, who would take jou 
out into the gay world, and till your cup full of it's pleasures? 

Edith, {looking off dreamily.) No, sir — that is not my 
thought; such a, one would not make married life what my ideal 
of it is, a home-life full of love, and peace and unity — home, 
sweet home! 

Mr. F. {aside, greatly delighted.) It seems as if I had 
happened upon the one girl in all the world for me. 

Edith. I think I shoidd take one who had had long experience 
of life; who had reached its full, ripe evening time — some one 
who would depend on me; some one whom I could care for, tend 
and nurse as well as love. It may seem an odd notion, but I have 
never known a grandfather, and have all the natural craving for 
such a one still unsatislied. 

Mr. F. {aside.) Charming, charming! Oh! if Jane were only 
here, how ashamed she'd be for the way she's talked about these 
girls, {aloud.) One thing more. Do you have any feeling 
when you think about it, that you would like your husband to 
have money, say a great deal of it, or you would not care to 
many him? 

Edith, {smiling sadly.) That is not my thought, sir. If he 
has money enough to rent an humble .cottage with a hon(>ysuckle 
creeping on the porch, it would be enough. 

Mr. F. {delighiel.) Well, EJith, I am thinking of taking a 



Act 1.] HOME, SWEET HOME. 23 

wife, and I am soiiiy to ask you, altliou2;li I don't know exactly 
how to do it. 

Edith, {in calm and uneccitod tone.) Are you going to 
propose to me now — right away ? 

Mr. F. Yes — yes, such was my intention. 

Edith, {rtsin-j.) Excuse me one moment. {Exit, c.) 

Mr. F. Dear, dear, dear. This is the greatest piece of luck 
I ever iiad; to pick out, almost in the dark, the very girl suited 
for my wife; artless, natural, pure-hearted, loving, tender, 
and unseltisii. I re dly wish I had brought Jane along. Now 
Jane said in her excitement, that no one would think of marrying 
an old man like me, except some base, selfish, grasping girl, who 
would do it to get at my money. Oh, Jane, Jane, you don't 
know anything about the girl of to-day; and yet she will persist 
in thinking that she does, the dear old foolish thing. 

Edith enters with four duodecimo volumes in hand. 

Edith. I got the manuals for us, sir, to save time Shall I 
find the places ? 

Mr. F. Manuals? 

Edith. Yes. Society's Liturgy ; you must have seen it, sir. 
Has all the forms and uses of society in it, so you only have 
to read it like the Church Service. It saves ever so much time 
and trouble, and the beauty of it is yo i don't have to think 
what you are saying. We use them almost all together. We got 
them so that we would not make any mistake. Pa is very par- 
ticular about that in our language. You know his uncle was 
Professor Aristotle J. Short, the grammarian. Pa's very proud 
of that, and tiiinks we all have inherited some of uncle's gram- 
mar. Pa uses beautiful language, but is a great one to lose his 
nominative. Ma is a very tluent talker, too. I suppose she in- 
herits some of it by marriage. 

{During this Edith has been finding places. Hands book to 
Mr. F.) 

Edith. Page 32, Form 16, 1 suppose, is what we want. 

Mr. F. Ah, yes, let me put on my other glasses. Oh, my back, 
whenever I feel in my pockets. Won't you take them out for me, 
my dear? {she does so.) Thank you. Ah, yes, I've heard of these, 
I've seen one of them, the "Caller's Manual." It was left at the 



24 HOME, SAVEET HOME. [Act 1. 

house bj' some one who called on Jane. Jane couldn't seem to 
get over it. She isn't up with the age, Jane isn't. And this is 
certainly an age of improvement. Do I begin '! 

Edith. Yes, sir, page 32. 

Mr. F. Ah, yes, let me see. Form l(i. *' Proposal of elderly 
male to young female party." 

Mr. F. (reads.) "My dear child, I have something to say to 
you which may fill you with surprise." 

EniTii. (rnnls.) " You have, sir, my best attention." 

Mr. I". (r('(fds.) "I desire to offer you my hand in marriage.' 

Edith, (retfc/s.) ''Sir! you astonish me beyond measure." 

Mr. F. {?-ea<ls.) " Will you l)e nnne?" 

Edith, (reads.) "With pleasure." 

Mr. F. Why, that seems to be all. I liise it. Tliere's a sim- 
plicity al)Out it, and no emltarrassment. Oh, my ))ack, my back ! 
(riihs If.) 

Edith. I'll go get Ma and Pa to come and read their i)arts, 
and as soon as they get through 7 can rub your back for you ; it 
would l)e quite proper then, (e.r/f.) 

Mr. I*". This is a great world. Manuals for love-making! 
What won't they get u}) next. Oh Jane, Jane, you are way Ijchind 
the age ! 

Enter Edith', 2)^'ecedm;7 Mr. and Mrs. S., who come in ann- 
in-arvi, and very sedafefy sit o)i right. FjDITII Jind,<) jjtace for 
Mr. F. and hands him Manual. 

Mr. F. {reads.) "Mr. and Mrs. Short, I love your daughter with 
an afl'ection entirely in accord with the rules of etlcpiette and good 
society. I have asked her to be mine. She has replied in the 
affirmative, and has referred me to you to complete our bliss. My 
means are ample. I am well matured in years; but though my 
head is touched by the frost of time, my heart has not yet been 
chilled by its breatli." 

Mr. S. (nolemnly.) Edith, hand me the "Parents' Manual," 
at the proper page, (takes it and reads.) "My wife and my- 
self, sir, learn with great surprise that you, a mere child, have 
formed an attachment for our daughter. When we allowed you 
to grow up together the thought of marriage never entered our 
heads. You are both too young to think of such a thing. Let 
everything remain as it is for one year. No formal engagement 



Act l.J HOME, SWEET HOME. 25 

ineanwliile." Editli, tlii.s can't lie rii;lit. Eli! Oil, ixsliavv ! the 
wroiiiz; form, sir. 

Mrs. S. l'v(^ told you. Aristotle, you must come to glasses. 

Mr. S. Well, vitli a sou of ei,i;lity-tliree, I f;uess 1 shall have to. 
Ah, h(!re we are. {rends.) " Respected sir, we take your otler 
kimlly. It is accepteil. We weep the loss of a dear and loving 
daiiLiiiter, l)iit are comforted by tiie thou<;-ht that your means are 
ample, and that thoim'h your head he touched by the frost of time, 
your heart has not yet been chilleil by its icy breath. Take the 
paternal blessing-, and forgive these tears." 

Hands book to Mrs. ^^., irJio screws up her eyes to exnynine 
sdin", and find'i p'.aee. 

Mrs. S. "My children, bless you. Never will the mother's 
htiurt cool toward you; never will tlie mother's eye leave you; 
never will the mother's liaml be wanting in any of your artairs; 
and her heart is glad when she feels that she adds to her little 
flock one whose means are ample, and whose head is touched by 
the frost of time, but whose heart has not yet been chilled by 
its icy breath. Take the maternal blessing and forgive these 
tears." 

Mr. F. Is that all ? 

Mr. S. That is all. Nothing very terrible about it. 

Mr. F. No; short and practical. Is it proper, Edith, now, for 
you t(» rub my back; you said it would be ? 

Edith, {snvetli/.) It is quite proper now, sir. (rubs sW/htJy. 
Clock strikes nine whde Edith is ruhbinff, Fi.vau st(fris.) 

Mr. F. Oh dear, it's my bedtime. Nine o'clock, summer and 
winter, for tifty-Iive years. I told Jane I would be back by a 
quarter to nine. What will she say ? How time has llown ! I 
must go. (iood night, Mrs. Short ami Mr. Short. Good night, 
Edie [cJnicks her under chin). My little birdie! I'll be around 
early in the morning, and will talk over all the arrangements. I 
want all possible haste used at my time of life. 

Mr. S. Well, sir, we will be delighte I to see j'ou at all hours 
- and times. We will wait on you to the door. 

Mr. F. No, no. I can get along very well. I had my foot- 
bottle sent into the kitchen from th»^ carriage, to be kept warm. 

Mr. S. That was(iuite right. Edith, go see to it. {exit Edith, c.) 
/ Let Mrs. S. and myself help you down, {each take an arm.) 



26 HOME, SWEET HOME. [Act 1. 

Mr. F. I'm giviiiii; you too much truulile. 

Mrs. S. Don't speak of it. You are 7iiy boy now, and you 
will have i)leiity of opportunity to pay it all back. 

Mr. ¥. Thank yo\i, (toft erin;/ out (jetw.-^en th^iu,) Xhdwk you. 
I'm so hap].)y. Oh, my back! (Lewin peeps in l. ) 

Greene. They've gone — come in. (Enter EKsie carrying 
Mignonette. Loo^cing (tt tab'e anl a' M muaU.) There they 
are. Let's do it. 

Elsie. Oh ! Don't l)other to-ni,<,dit. 

Greene. I think you might. I want to tell Ma, when I have to 
tell her I've lost Edie, that I've got the other in the same family, 
or she'll be awfully cross after the presents I have given away, or 
rather, she has given away. Say yes, please, I'm awfully fond of 
you. Just since we've been in the otlier room I've got fond of 
you. Just as fond of you as I was of E<Ue; and I was awfully 
fond of lier — so Ma said. 

Elsie. Oh ! well, we might as well have it over with. I want 
to be engaged, and I want to wear a ring. I'll take you, but just 
as Edie did, on condition that I cannot do better. And there is 
one little thing, Lewin. You know I love Mignonette, that 
I love him with all my iieart and soul, and mind and strength 
He is my first love; that is, I think he is, although I used to have 
a guinea pig, I believe. But whether he is or not, I love him 
now, wildly, passionately, to distraction, and if you can take a 
place in a heart that is wholly and entirely given to another, I 
am j^ours, until I find some one else, and then you must promise 
to give me up, without talking or making any fuss. 

Greene. I'll do it. I didn't expect you would ever love me aa 
you do Mignonette, you know, and I'll be perfectly satisfied to 
come next to him. What I want is to belong to this family. 

Elsie. And you'll give me a real diamond ring ? 

Greene. Well, I'll get the one I gave Edith. I wouldn't like 
to ask Ma for another so soon. 

Elsie. Well, I suppose that will do. But I must have it by 
next Sunday. 

Greene. And now we're really engaged? 

Elsie. Yes — yes ; but don't talk about it. 

Edith rushes in, followed liy Mrs. S., c, tliroirs her arms 
around Elsie and then aroiinl her mother. 



Act 1.] HOxME, SWEET HOME. 27 

KniTir. Oh, coiig-ratulate me somebody — aiij'hody — everyljody- 
I am the happiest girl in the world. I can't keep still. Come, 
let's have a dance. Come, Elsie. {^Seizes Elsie, id//o seizes 
Lewin, wfto seizes Mks. S., w^io sdzes Mr. .<., w/^o has just 
entered; (/ny dance around the centre tatjie dragged by Edith.) 

Ki>iTH. Just think; perhaps this time next year I shall be a 
widow; a rich, young, pretty widow. 

IClsie. I won't dance any more. You get everything, greedJ^ 

Greene. You've got me, now, Elsie, you knOw. 

Elsie. Bah! Let me alone; go home to jour Ma. 

Mr. S. Come, Elsie, no more ill-temper to-niglit. 

Mrs. S. AVell, you can't Itlame the child for feeling disappointed, 
Aristotle. It isn't in nature not to wish to be a widow if you can. 

Elsie. Well, 1 know what I hope. I ho]ie Jte'll lire forever ! 



Scene III. {The «/«;e.— Lewin Greene discovered on soja, 

holding Mignonette.) 

Gr. It ain't much fun to be engaged ; to have other fellows ofi" 
with your girl, and you home with the dog. I felt awful bad 
aljout losing Edie for nearly a week. I had just got so I could 
keep step with her when she took my arm, and then I had to go 
and learn that all over again, for every girl steps different from 
every other uirl, somehow. I don't know why she should. This 
dog is the worst of Elsie. She never can love anyl)ody but him, 
she tells me so all the time, and I know she can't. And I "ct 

awful jealous of him. He's my rival, that's what he is my 

hated rival, and it's mighty hard on me. Why some fellows o-et 
mad at their rivals if they just see 'em plaj'ing tunes to their 
girls under their windows. Ma's got a picture of it. I wonder 
how they'd like to hold their rivals in their laps all day, and comb 
their hair, and hold them up for their girl to kiss. It's enou<>-h to 
make a fellow crazy, when you come to think about it, and some 
of these times I'll get desperate, I know I shall, and just o-q and 
revenge myself. And I know what I'll do, too — I'll just put him 
down on the iloor, and let him take care of'himself ! 

Enter Mrs. S., holdinrj card, Jollowid hy Bridget. The 



28 HOME, SWEET HOME. [Act 1. 

manticr of the former very obsequious, the latter hold and pre- 
snmiiK/. 

Mrs. S. AValk v'vx\\i in liore, Madamp. Be kind euouiih to sit 
down. I SGG l)y your card that your name i.s — 

Brid. [in lo>'(l voice.) Mis.s Brixh/et Berjorra ! 

Mrs. S. And you are introduced by Mrs. Livinijstone De 
Peyster Van Cortlandt. I aui proud to make your acfjuaintance. 

BuiD. (iKitroiitzingJy.) You've rather a nate liouse for a 
shmall one, l)ut I don't loike the pattern of your slitair-cari)et at 
all. It's awful ooijjly. 

Mrs. S. I am truly sorry. Wiiat position did you hold with 
Mrs. Livingstone De Peyster Van Cortlandt? 

Brid. Cook and companion. "Bid," says she — ^^she's al- 
ways a callin' nie pit names, we're so intimate togither — "they're 
lookin' for a lady in sarvice up to Broker Short's." So up I 
comes. 

Mrs. S. I need not say that the introduction is more than suf- 
ficient. "Wiiat I desire to obtain are the services of a French maid 
for myself and my youngest daughter. You could till that posi- 
tion ? 

Brid. Frinch is it? Listin to tliis: "Follywow — dam sell." 
How's that foraccint? 

Mrs. S. I've no doubt it's exceedingly i)ure. I'm not acquainted 
with the language myself. My daughters are, however, and my 
husband is the nei)]iew of Professor Short, the celel)rated gram- 
marian. Your i)ri!icii)al duty will be to wear a French cap and 
keep continually following us around with souuHhing over your 
arm. The fact is, we are altout to have a vei'y great ciuuige in 
our atlairs. Day after to-morrow our eldest daughter. Miss Edith 
will marry old Mr. Flush, the millionaire. 

Brid. Yis ; I heard j'our friends sayin' you had your hook in 
the ould fellow's gills. 

Mrs. S. We shall of course at once break up here, and go and 
live ui)on our new son-in-law; and our style of living will be very 
much improved, and of course a French nuiid becom(\s a neces- 
sity. 

]~Rii)(iKT. If ye soot me, mum, the Frinch will be no ob- 
jiction. I'm towld they're a daicent paiple when they're sober 
and paiceful. 



Act 1.] HOME, SWEET HOME. 29 

Mrs. S. I am ready. (Mores k'^r chair arouwl so a^ fo face 
Brtdcjkt, and (hrou-s herselfhack resiiinedly.) Have jou yoiu' 
Maiiiuil witli vou ? We Imve a set if you have not. 

Brid. Yes. mum. {PmdKchxj the Manual, finds jjlace^ 
r(^(ids, occ((sinn(dl!j vyuxj Mrs. S. sternhj.) How luiimy in tlie 
family? 

Mrs. S. Here tliere are four. Wlieii we move— 

Brid. {sternly.) Answer the ffuestion simple and plain, no 
whins, or ifs, or antls. 

Mrs. S. I hey; pardon— I will; six. 

Brid. Do you kape horses ? 

Mrs. S. We sliali. 

Brio. Whose convaniance is fu.st consu]te(l in the use of the 
carriages ? 

Mrs. S. The gentlemen and ladies in service, of course. 

Brid. Is it understood that the tooth-! irushes and itlier tilitt 
artichy belonging to the ladies in sarvice shall not be used 
by mimbers of tiie family ? 

Mrs. S. It is. ^ 

Brid. Has tlie ))ids of tlie ladies in sarvice piller shams? 

Mrs. S. They will have. 

Brid. Will — so far ifs satisfaetory ; liut you niver kin tell. I 
can't shtop now to go through with the ithers. Miss Van 
Cortlandt and me is used to take a little tayand toast togither at 
8:30. Yer say yer hev a Mamial? 

Mrs. S. Yes, we have one. 

Brid. Well, just write out in a nate hand the answers to the 
remauiin 8() ciuestions, and sind thim around with yer card, and 
I'll look em over wiiin 1 git toime and consider your api)lication- 

Mrs. S. Vou ai-e very kind. 

Brid. If I sliiniM ((Hicliide to come wit li yer. I sliould i.xpict 
yerttMloallme W(.rk. Forly doilais a nmntii, Monday.s, AVidnis- 
days, Fridays, Sundays, and i very aiviiiing to myself. Yer sittin 
room, lilirarv, and luirinr lo he usimI in common betwixt us if we 
hajjpeii to hev company at llii' same tuime. You're to furnish all 
me dollies, and none of your lioine-made duds, aither. Not to 
be disturbed in tiie inorniu' aiiiier liiin 10:;50, and at all owers to 
\)ii trated like one of tlie family, (iood aivinin, mum. Is there 
hiy other way out, mum? I hate to hev to go over tliet oogly 



30 HOME, SWEET HOME. [Act 1. 

sliliiir carpet agin. I've been attendin' some art lectures, lately, 
and it's that oogly it makes me hid itch. 

Mrs. S. Allow me, and I'll show you down the back stairs and 
to avoid it. 
Br. Is that yer bye, there, tindin dog? {referring fohnwi^i.) 
Mrs. S. That is a friend of the family, my youngest daughter's 
intended. 

Br. Wdl, I should tiiink it would be Hobsin's ciiice between 
the two of em, with the odds of two ligs in the dog's favor 

[e.veunt r 
Gr. There's nothing like one of them women to tone a 
person down. If I was Mr. Short I'd just keep one around all thti 
tnne, and set her on Mrs. Short whenever she has a tantrum. It 
took two pails of water, the other night, and then she did not stop 
till she'd torn the bosom out of Mr. Short's shirt. And just 
because he wanted to have some wine at the wedding breakfast, 
and she said it was sinful, and a bad example to be set by cliurch 
members. {Enter Mrs. S. helping Mr. Flush to chair hij table. ) 
Mrs. S. It's too bad Edith is out agani. She wouldn't go to 
the funeral at the Woodwiddies, yesterday, because they owed us 
a call. But they came around last evening and left their cards, and 
invited the girls to the Crepe party, to-night and said the flowers 
were so elegant, that the girls went. But they'll l)e home earlj-, 
if you can wait. 

Mr. F. Crepe party ? I'm such an old fogie, and know so 
little about young people's aflairs, that I don't really know just 
what a Crepe party is, although I've often heard of them. But I 
must learn all about sucli things now. 

Mrs. S. They're quite the style this winter. This is the 
fifteenth the girls have attended. They are given by the family 
to show ott' the flowers sent to the funeral. The rooms are deco- 
rated with them. Taey have round dances and a supper, and 
everybody wears a black crepe bow and black gloves. They 
break up early, as the family are generally tired with watching 
and riding to the grave, and so on. 

Mr, F. Well, I hope my little birdie is enjoying herself. 
Mrs. S. She deserves to. Never did I see such love and devo- 
tion. Yesterday I went up to her room to take u|) the Pert's 
wedding present which had just come in — a half pound of 



Act 1.] HOME, SWEET HOME. 31 

caramels. 11 wasn't inucli for those rich iu'ojjIc, was il? When 
I saw, her reading, I just peeped over lier shoulder, and what do 
you think it was? 

Mr. F. {delighted.) T don't know, maybe the note I sent 
with the watch and chain. 

Mrs. S. No. Dr. Lamhert's "Essay on Longevity'' — "How Long 
can he Live ?" 

Mr. F. Dear little girl. 

Mrs. 8. She asks everybody slie sees if they know yon, and 
what you are worth, and where your property is. 

Mr. Y Sweet little bird. How louching such love is. I could 
sit for hours and hear you talk about it. 

Mrs. S. Did I tell you about Sunday week ? No? You know 
the Rev. Mr. Namm was at our church that day; our girls think 
there is no OTie like him. Elsie says if anything in the world 
could make her a devotee for life, it would be his moustache- 
Well, he i)reached a most beautiful sermon, all about tiie heathen 
and the ciictus Howers that grow lliere, and the ditl'erent kinds 
of humming l)irds they have. I saw several people crying vvlien 
he spoke some poetry about them. He always speaks some 
poetry, and this was beautiful; every verse ended "Hum and 
come, come and hum. ye humming birdF." Edith seemed per- 
fectly carried away. She leaned clear forward, and her eyes had 
such an intent look in them, that I didn't know but what the dear 
impulsive girl would get right uj), and start of!' for a missionary 
on foot. And I asked her afterward what she had been thinking 
al)out, and she said she was wondering about something; won- 
dering if your house had any encumbrance upon it, and how many 
feet it fronted on High Street. 

Mr. F. The dear, little, bewitching, practical thing ! To neglect 
the poor heathen for thoughts ol uie. It makes me very happy^ 
and she is so artless, and childlike and ingenuous with it all. 

Mrs. S. Yes, sir. We've tried to keep her so. Girls, now-a- 
days, are I)roug]it forward too soon. I never allowed either of 
my girls to go to a children's party, when they couldn't be home 
by midnight, before they were five years old. And Edith was 
nearly fourteen, when she graduated the oldest in her class. 

Mr. F. I see many evidences, dear Madame, of your car(>ful 
traini.ig; but it is getting toward my bed-time, and I cannot 



32 HOME, SWEET HOME. [Act 1. 

bn>uk my hitl)it witliont fci'liiiLC tlic t'llW-t.s of it to-iiKirrovv and 
that will bo u busy ilay. \\iieii must 1 go lo the Ciuii-ch for tiic 
rehearsals, as you rail liicm '.' 

Mrs. S Two (>\'loc-k. ♦ 

Mr. F. And we reliearse the whole service ? 

Mrs. S. Yes, Dr. (iayltird called here this morning; about it. 
He said he would <;ive us three rehearsals, and a dress rehearsal. 
Benediction and all. He said if you ijot tireil you could he down 
in tlie front i)evv, between tlienj, and you had better take a pillow 
and ' your liniment, for probably your back will need an occa- 
sional rul)bing, ])efore you get :hrou:;h. 

Mr. F. Thank you. I'll be there. Ah, I thought then; was 
something else. I've brought a draft of my Will, as you and Mr. 
S. retiuested. Fortew drew it. I will execute it just as soon as 
we are married. It is just as we arranged it; everything to my 
beloved little wife Edith, and a simple request that she will 
provide for dear .Jane as long as she lives. 

Mrs. S. Edith will ])e glad of that. She said the other day that 
she hoped you would have the dear old thing left to her. We will 
look the Will over, and consult Mr. Fortew as our attorney about 
it, and send it to you as soon as possible. 

Mr. F. Yes, do so; and now I must say good-night. My very best 
love to Edle, and-a-a-kiss. I brought some (lowers fur her, and 
among them slie'U find a little note. 

Mrs. S. Oh ! you silly, romantic, dear old boy. She'll be 
delighted. 

iJe totters toward^ door— Mrs. S. fo'lmos. 

Mr. F. No, no. 1 insist, my dear Madame; let me go myself, 
^lis time. I must act spry and look spry — for day after to- 
morrow I shall be a bridegroom — he-he-.lie ! {exit l.) 

Greene, {yaipning.) I say, Mrs. Short, ain't it most time 
for the girls ? It's awful pokey for me here. 

Mrs. S. {coriipassioiiatelij.) Yes, poor boy, I dare say it is, 
and Lewiu, I don't believe you will ever be rewarded for all your 
devotion, for I feel quite certain that as soon as we are all settled 
on Mr. Flusli, and launch out in the style we intend, Elsie will l^e 
able to do much better. 

Greene. Oh! Mrs. Short, don't talk that way. It takes so 
awful long to get acquainted with 9, new girl before you can keeip 



Act. 1] HOME, SWEET HOME. 33 

step with her or ask her to marry you, that it would discour- 
age me awfully to have to hreak off our engagement. 

Enter Mr. S., hurriedly. 

Mrs. S. (quickly) Well, Aristotle, is it sold? 

Mr. S. Yes. I insisted upon it and it's sold just as it stands, 
furniture and all. 

Mrs. S. Well we are in luck lately. 

Mr. S. I had to make a great sacrifice though. 

Mrs. S. {starting) A sacrifice! What sacrifice? You didn't 
throw anything off the price, did you? 

Mr. S. No. I had to sacrifice our old friends. 

Mrs. S. Oh, pshaw, how you startled me. 

Mr. S. Yes, they got indignant and then angry, and said 
that if I insisted on enforcing the hard bargain, as they called 
it, and on taking advantage of a technicality and of their hav- 
ing had so much confidence in me, they would carry out the 
purchase, but that should be the end of all friendly relations 
between us forever. I told them I never allowed feelings to 
interfere with business, and so we've lost our oldest friends, 
but we've sold our house and furniture for a thousand dollars 
more than they're worth. 

Mrs. S. Well, the old fellow's been here drivelling again. 
He brought the draft of his will. There it is {handing it to S.) 
Now we want to be very careful to have that just right. Ah! 
here are the girls. 

Enter Edith and Elsie in full evening dress and black gloves. 

Edith, {throws herself on chair, l.) I am tired out. 

Elsie, {rushes up to Mignonette and takes him out o/Lew- 
in's a7-ms jiaying no attention to Greene) How has my little 
angel been since his mamma h^s been gone, kiss 'em — kiss 
'em. 

Gb. {aside, grinding his teeth) That makes me maddest. To 
have to stand by and hear the kisses pop. {Aloud.) Elsie, did 
you have a good, jolly time? 

Elsie. Yes, only I got provoked. I was waltzing with 
Alfred Tennyson Jones, when his wife had to come up and 
tell him she had just got a message from their nurse that the 
5 



84 HOME, SWEET HOME. [Act. 1. 

doctor had called, as they ordered, to see their baby, and pro- 
nounced it diphtheria. Well, who cared ? I didn't, and I am 
sure Alfred didn't, for he squeezed my hand and said "Deuce 
take it," in a tone which plainly meant, take the baby. And 
I am sure Mrs. J. didn't, for she said she was having a lovely 
time and wouldn't go at all, only some people had heard the 
message delivered, and she was afraid it would make talk if 
they didn't go, and anything happened to the l)aby before 
morning. I think he's lovely. I do love married men — to flirt 
with. 

Mrs. S. Why, Edie, you seem to be in the dumps. What's 
the matter? 

Edith. I have got the blues, that's all. A horrid thought 
has fairly haunted me for two hours. I was dancing a galop 
with Horace Porter. I danced eight with him this evening, 
bless the old lazy darling. He's got such a long soft 
beard to put your face against when you dance, and it always 
smells so nice and strong of lemons and mint and things. 
Well, he got telling me about his two sisters and himself, and 
how hard his old grandfather worked to support them. And 
I asked him how old his grandfather was, and he said he was 
ninety years old, and they hoped he would live longer. And 
then the horrid thought flashed right in my mind, suppose 
my old man should live on — and on and on — to be as old as 
that. Why that would be seven years! 

Mr. S. Well, darling, don't worry about it. Here's some- 
thing to cheer you up, the draft of his will that he left for 
us to look over. 

Edith. Give it to me {takes it). I'll take it up and read it 
in bed. 

Mrs. S. He is going to leave the old woman to you. 

Edith. Good ! I'll pay her up, the stingy thing, for send- 
dng me a mean old bed quilt for a wedding present, with a la- 
bel stuck on it to say it was all worked after her seventy-sixth 
birthday. As if we cared ! Good night {going). 

Mrs. S. Oh, Edith {nwckingly), 1 like to forgot. Here are 
some flowers and a love letter he left for you. 

^■DWB. {carelessly) Just look in the letter and see if there 
is anything more substantial than love in it. 



Act 2. J HOME. SWEET HOME. 85 

Mrs. S. {opening letter and lioldimj uj) to light) No. 

Edith. Then I don't want the old rubbish (exit l). 

Mr. S. Good, sensible girl. No romantic nonsense about 
her. 

Mrs. S. So she is. But you will find Elsie will be just as 
sensible, though of course you don't think so. 

Gr. (who lias Iiad 710 attention, MiGi^o^ETTE having absorbed 
ail) Well, I guess I'll go. Good night all. 

Elsie. Be around in plenty of time to dry Mignonette in the 
morning after his bath. 

Gr. Ye^, I will, {aside) I'm getting to hate that dog so 
that one of these days I'll — I'll twist his tail {exit). 

Elsie, {rising, holding iqj'MKmo^KTTE toward Mr. a?id Mrs. 
S.) Say good night to zoo own grannies, by-by, shakes zoo 
, paw {exeunt). 

Mrs. S. Aristotle, can you realize it? Day after to-mor- 
row! 

Mr. S. Edith married! 

Mrs. S. And I his mother-in-law. 

Mr. S. Well, Matilda, somehow or other it is easier for me 
to imagine that part of it than the other. 



ACT II. 

Scene — Room in house of Mr. Fi>ush same as first — 77iuch, 
changed in furniture and ornament — bric-a brae on walls, etc. 

Enter Jane, c. 
J. {e.vcitedly). Talk, talk, talk! scold, scold, scold! contra- 
dict, quarrel, wrangle and hammer from morning till night 
until I'm almost crazy. Not satisfied with marrying my poor, 
dear old brother to a chit of a girl in her teens, who cares no 
more for him than for the dirt under her high French heels — 
not SHtisfied with .swooping down upon us, mother and father 
sister and servant, 1)ag and baggage and dog — they must take 
complete possession, fairly turn us out of our own house, spoil 



36 HOME, SWEET HOME. [Act 2. 

our plans, change our old habits and reduce us to the merest 
nonentities. When I appeal to brother he says, "Hush! 
hush ! It will all be right as soon as things get settled." 
When I speak to that chit, whom I have tried my best to 
like, but can't, she refers me to her ma. I haven't yet spoken 
to her ma. I'm afraid I can't control myself sufficiently to 
do it in a dignified way, the meddling, arrogant thing ! But I 
will, and when I do I shall speak plainly. Poor, dear brother, 
not a month married and yet almost driven to distraction — 
I know he is — but the dear, meek, patient old lamb never com- 
plains with it at all. 

Enter Bkidget, wearing French cap, and carrying a large old- 
fashioned soup tureen. Sees J. ; sticks up her nose scornfully 
and marches defiantly towards c.) 

J. {starting sternly) Stop ! (Br. pays no attention. ) 

J. Stop, I say ! How dare you touch that ? Take it right 
down stairs again as fast as you can go and put it carefully 
back where you found it. 

Br. {insolently) Excuse me, mum! But not being me 
misthriss nor me masther, nor aiven me great great grand- 
mother, as paiple moight think from the looks o' yez, I shant 
do nothin' of the soort ! 

J. {indignantly) How dare you speak to me in that manner? 
Do you know what you've got there? That belonged to my 
dear old great aunt, Mehitable Flush. 

Br. {insolently) Oh! Indade! I didn't no befoor it had 
come out o' Noah's Ark. 

J. It's the greatest treasure I've got in the house. I have 
kept it carefully for fifty years. I have never allowed it to 
be touched by anybody but myself, and I only use it on my 
brother's birthdays. And yet you have dared to take it from 
the cuboard. What in the world were you going to do with 
it? 

Br. Histe it on the wall, with the rist of the owld brickbats. 

J. {resolutely) Never. Between you all, you have robbed 
me of all the crockery I've got. The whole of the dear old 
dinner set we have used in the family since I was a girl has 
been scattered over the walls and ceilings of the house. 



Act 3.] HOME. SWEET HOME. 37 

Br. And this is fur a cinter pase to some of 'em. Up she 
goes. Only I'm thinkin' they'll hev a high owld toime bal- 
ancin' this owl soker wid their tacks and mucilige. 

J. Will you obey me, or will you not ? 

Br. I will not. "Obey" is it? That's purtj^ langviage to 
me, the Frinch maid ! Now I doant care nottiu' abowt. this 
owld dish. I'm not purtikler about f oUowin' the directions of 
me own misthriss, who asked me to go and git it — but whin 
it comes to yer "obey," and to yer hollerin' as if I was a 
naiger or a haithen Chinee, I'd carry this here owld flower-pot 
through firg and wather, and thunder and lightnin', and hail 
sthones and blue divils to spite yer. Take that, you owld 
bane pole ! Obey, is it ? And to me ! 

J. (ciaide) I must control myself {with assumed calmness). 
Give that to me and I will take it down {starts for it). 

Br. No, I won't 

J. {fiercely) Give it to me this moment. {Lays hold of it with 
one hand and seizes Bridget's arm with other). 

Br. {relinquishing lier hold and hreaking loose — then arms 
akimbo) Oh, that's it, is it ! All right ! All right ! .list wait till 
I go an put on me thick soled shoes and thin look out fur yer 
owld quill shins {exit r. defiantly). 

J. {placing tureen carefully on table and examining it critically; 
then to c. and calls off excitedly) Brother ! Brother ! Brother 
Nicholas ! 

Mrs. S. {toithout l.) He can't come now. Miss Flush, he's up 
on top of the step-ladder helping us to nail up a row of butter 
plates 

J. {coming downij. c.) On top of the step-ladder when he 
can hardly stand upon the floor! He'll fall and break his neck 
to a certainty, and then I suppose they will be satistied. Oh, 
poor brother ! poor brother ! to what have you fallen — your 
old life l)lighted. the few years you have left darkened, and all 
hopes of a happy, quiet eventide dead and gone forever, and 
the only comfort I have in it all is, that I can say with truth 
" I told you so." Its pretty poor comfort, but it is always some 
balm to woman's heart to be able to lay those four little words 
upon its wounds 



38 HOME, SWEET HOME. [Act 2. 

Enter Mr. Flush c. limping and rubbing 7iis back ruefully 
coming down L. c, sits. 

Mr. Fl. Ah ! Jane — my back — my back — my back! It 
seems as if it must be broken this time; but I've done a pretty 
good morning's work; eigliteen tea saucers; one dozen butter 
plates; four vegetable dislies and our old slop jar, have I 
nailed and stuck and tied to the parlor walls and ceiling since 
breakfast! pretty well for a man of eighty three, eh? Jane, 
didn't you call me? what do you want? 

J. {firmly) Brother, I want to know this. Have I any place 
left in this house ? Have I any voice here ? . Have I any 
rights here ? 

Ml'. Fl. [looking about nervously) Hush ! hush ! Jane dear, 
of course you have and always will have, and all will come 
right as soon as things get settled. 

J. Yes, that's what you always say, and I think things are 
pretty well settled now. It is settled that all the quiet and 
comfort and happiness are to go out of our lives. It is .settled 
that the rules of our house are to be broken and our habits 
turned upside down. It is settled that Mrs. Short is to be 
head and you and I to be foot. "* 

Mr. Fl. Don't speak quite so loud, Jane. 

J. Just look at the house, just look at the furniture! The 
old bureau out of the spare chamber, in the dining room — the 
old black dining table with its ugly claws and two kitchen 
shairs, in the parlor — what belongs on the floor put on theceil- 
•ng, what was made for the table put on the wall. That's 
housekeeping ! 

Mr. Fl. No, Jane ; it's art. It does seem funny to us old 
folks, but I suppose it's because we never studied it. You 
know, Jane, you and I are behind the age and mustn't set 
ourselves up for judges. 

J. Well, I nearly got my death by it last night, and I al- 
most wish I had. 

Mr. Fl. Why, how was that — you didn't tell me anything 
about it ? 

J. No. You'd gone out to dinner with your — your bride, 
and did'nt get home until midnight, how could I ? I went 
into the hall to get my shawl, which Mrs. Short had kindly 



Act 2.] HOME, SWEET HOME. 39 

■worn around the bouse all day without leave or license, and 
had thrown on the hat-stand when she went out. And the gas 
hadn't been lighted, and I came right up against something 
standing just in the middle of the ball. I put out my hand 
and caught bold, as I thought, of somebody's hair. I thought 
of course of robbers, and I screamed "Fire! tire!" at the 
top of my voice, and almost fainted away ; but I held 
on to the hair all the time with all my might. Mr. Short, 
who seems the best of the whole bad lot, came out, lit a 
match and sliowed me what it was — mother's spinning wheel 
that hasn't been out of the garret since we were children — 
and I had hold of some flax they had tied on the distaff. I 
could have cried I was so frightened and angry and ashamed. 
I should just as soon have thought of bringing the old buggy 
out of the carriage house and standing it there, exactly. And 
now, now the climax is reached — I have just caught their 
French maid, whose name is Bridget, but whom they call 
"Mahree," carrying off grand aunt's soup tureen. Grand 
aunt's soup tureen — just think of it! And when I spoke to 
her she became very insolent. 

Mr. Fl. That was a little vexatious, but don't make any 
disturbance about it. I'll ask Mrs. Short to forego the pleas- 
\ire of having it hung, or whatever they call it. I'll get her 
something else. 

J. I can forgive everything of that kind. All they do to the 
house that I have kept in such order for half a century, even 
the attempt to desecrate my soup-tureen, now that I have 
got it back safely, but I can't forgive their making you un- 
happy and miserable, as I know they are making you, al- 
though you try to hide it from me. " 

Mr. Fl. {with assumed cheerfulness) No, no, Jane, you are 
mistaken — I am happy, very, very happy. That is, I would be, 
if Edith and you and I were living alone together here in our old 
peaceful fashion as I hoped we would. But since her family have 
chosen to come here we must make the best of it, Jane. We 
mustn't be wanting in hospitality, or do anything to hurt 
Edith's feelings, or say anything to offend Mrs. Short. For 
my impression is, Jane, but it's only an impression, that Mrs. 
Short's temper is perhaps a little hasty. 



40 HOME, SWEET HOME. [Act 2. 

Enter Lewin Greene c. , carrying Mignonette. 

Gr . Excuse me, Mr. Flush and Miss Flush ; I meixn Miss Flush 
and Mr. Flush ; ma says I must always speak to the lady 
first ; Elsie says I must stay in here, for Mignonette's nose 
runs, and she's afraid the noise of the hammering is making 
his head ache. I say, would you or your sister mind holding 
him for a moment, while I work my arm ; it feels awfully 
funny. I haven't had a chance to put him down since bath- 
time. 

Mr. Fl. {kindly) Oh! yes; give him to me (Gr. does so, 
and. then exercises Jiisarm). 

Gr. Thank you. You are a very nice old man, and I 
don't see anything the matter with you at all. Of course I 
was down on you a little for cutting me out with Edie just 
after I'd learned to keep step with her; but I forgave j^ou 
that, and I didn't see but what you acted all right about it. 
But you never can tell 

J, What is this boy chattering about? 

Mr. Fl. Hush, Jane; maybe I've done something to offend 
them. Maybe I've made some blunder from not knowing the 
ways of the world now-a-days. I sometimes think I have. I 
sometimes fancy I see a difference in Edith and her mother. 
Iv'e tried to be very careful. 

Enter Elsie c, sees Gr. e.rercising ; looks hurriedly around; 
sees Mignonette in Mr. F. 's lap; rushes tip and snatches him 
Ttcdely, and speaks very angrily. 

Elsie. You horrid old man, you; don't you ever dare to 
touch my dog again. I don't allow anybody to do it. It's a 
nice state of affairs if everything we've got has to be 
handled and meddled with, and we can't have anything of our 
own, or do anything we please. 

Mr. Fl. Oh ! my dear. I 

Elsie. I don't want to hear you talk about it. And, 
Lewin, if you ever dare to let Mignonette out of your arms 
again I'll slap you right in the face and never speak to you 
again, never — never — never! {Throios herself on sofa, panting 
and angry.) 

Enter Bridget l. {scoicUng fiercely). 



Act 2.] HOME, SWEET HOME. 41 

Br. Where is slie '? Where is the owld number foive 
darnin' naidle? Oh ! there ye are. Are you riddy ? 

Mr. Fl. {soothingly) There, there, my good girl ; it's all 
right. We've settled the whole matter. You were not to 
blame at all ; so don't say anything more about it. 

Br. {sneeringly) Oh — is — your dry lung a workin' now? 
And am I to be towld what to do by another owld bone and 
grizzle ? I won't shtand it ; do yer hear {very loud) ? I won't 
shtand it I 

Mr. Fl. Well, well ; I have — I haven't said anything to hurt 
3'our feelings. Please don't raise your voice ; I'll see that it's 
all right with Mrs. Short. 

Br. Whose raisin' her vice ? {raising it louder) Whose raisin' 
her vice ? Taichin me manners, is it V Why, I got moore 
braidin in one lash of me lift eye than you two owld, dry 
shkinny shtalks hev in the two of yer crops put togither 
{raises her voice) putt togither ! 

Elsie. Lewin, go tell ma to come here. 

Mr. Fl. {hurriedly) No, no ; now, please don't do anything 
of the sort. Don't disturb her ; I don't mind it at all. It 
amuses me, and I rather like it — he ! he ! 

Elsie {rising and stamjnng Jier foot, paying no attention to 
Mr. Fl.) Did you hear me speak, Lewin ? Go and tell ma 
to come here! It's a great thing if even poor Mahree has to 
be scolded and found fault with all the time. {Exit Greene c.) 

Mr. Fl. (mucJi agitated) Oh ! dear, oh ! dear ; my head is 
getting confused and excited. 

Br. {talking at him) I'll foind out who's to be misthriss 
here, me or you. Yer same to think I'm a grane mummy 
from Agypt instead of a Friuch maid out of owld Airin her- 
silf. 

Enter Mrs. S. Jiurriedly c. folio iced by Qrkene'. 

Mrs. S. {looking from one to other) What's this? What's 
the trouble? Speak, Elsie! 

Elsie, {loud and e.vcited) It's some trouble and fault found 
with Mahree about that old foup tureen we sent after. 
They both stopped her, I understand, and commenced to 
abuse her violently, for daring to do anything without first 
consulting tliem. 



42 HOME, SWEET HOME. [Act 2. 

Br. {speaking loudly and breaking in on first part of above 
lines and speaking icitU Elsie) She was goia' to foight me 
over it — till I wint and put me thick soled shoes on and thin 
she backed down, like a white livered coward as she is. 

Mrs. S. {confused, turning to Fl.) Mr. Flush, I appeal to you, 
sir; to tell me what this all means. 

Mr. Fl. {loorried and nervous — sootldngli/) I don't think it 
amounts to anything, my dear madam. It all arose out of a 
wish expressed by sister Jane here to your maid that she 
would not take the soup tureen away. Of course you did not 
know it, but it is a family relic that Jane has always prized 
very dearly. 

Mrs. S. {impatiently) That will do, sir; I understand it now 
just as well as if I had been here and heard every word. My 
maid has been abused for trying to carry out my orders. 

Mr. Fl. No — no — I am very sure not abused. Jane simply 
said to her, she tells me 

Br. {hotly) Yer lie — yer lie! She said to me, .sez she, 
"don't yer go robbin' me " — that's it, " robbin' me of ivery- 
thing," " You've shtole," that's what she sid, and I doan't 
care if it was the sicond cousin of the great grandfather of 
the cook to the Quane herself as sid it — I won't shtandt it — I 
won't slitand it. 

Mrs. S. Well, Mahree, I don't blame you at all. You have 
acted perfectly right — nobly. You may withdraw now, if 
you please, but remain within call. I will settle this diffl 
culty myself. 

Br. All right, mum. (Aside.) Ould vinaigre cruet. She'll 
pipper 'em, ef I aint mishtaken. {Exit c. slowly.) 

Mrs. S. Mr. Flush, you have come to my house — I mean we 
have come to your house — to help our daughter and yourself 
to be happy. We have given up the pleasures of our own 
home, and all its. peace, and love, and unity, which you 
admired yourself, and come here for your sake. 

Mr. Fl. Yes, yes, my dear madam ; it was very kind of you 
all, and we appreciate it, I assiu'e you ; and we try to make 
it pleasant for you all. 

Mrs. S. I find no fault with your treatment of us, Mr. 
Flush, personally, other than, I think, a hundred dollars a week 



Act 2.] HOME, SWEET HOME. 43 

for pin-money, with your income, was rather a small allowance 
for Edith. And the promise that your will as drawn before 
marriage should be executed immediately after has not been 
fulfilled. 

Mr. Fl. {quicldy) I hope you understand that matter, mad- 
am. It is not my fault. Fortew was to have had a copy 
prepared and has not yet brought it. So, at Mr. Short's sug- 
gestion, I went myself to see about it yesterday, and Mr. 
Fortew promised to bring it here to-day. I explained all this 
to Mr. Short, and he seemed quite satisfied. 

Mrs. S. "When you have finished, sir, I will continue what 
I have begun. I say, with the exceptions named, I have no 
fault to find with your treatment of us personally, but I can- 
not say as much for all the members of your household. I 
won't mention names, but from the first expression of a cer- 
tain person's feelings and a paltry bed quilt as a wedding gift, 
to the present time, there has been a coldness, a hardness, a 
want of gush, and love, and confidence, which I little expected 
to find in a sister of my new made son. I don't mention 
names. 

J. My dear madam, I cannot help it. I was greatly in- 
censed at my brother's plan of marrying at his age. There 
was nothing personal in it. And I am trying hard to over- 
come all unpleasant feelings. 

Mrs. S. When your sister has finished her interruption of 
my conversation with yo\i, Mr. Flush, I will add, that looks, 
chilling manners, staring, watching, snooking and peering 
\ye could stand, but when it comes to active, hostile and 
continual interference with our every plan for your hap- 
piness, it is time matters were plainly and distinctly settled 
and defined. 

J. You are mistaken, Mrs. Short, there has been no hos- 
tility on my part. I am desirous of doing everything to make 
your home here pleasant and happy, as my brotlier desires — 
only. 

Mr. Fl. Yes, yes! Jane does. She's old, Jane is, and set in 
her ways, but she's got a heart of gold, my dear madam, and 
I know you two will get along splendidly together when 
things are once settled. 



44 HOME, SWEET HOME. [Act 2. 

Mrs. S. The other day I sent Mahree to bring down the 
marble top off the bureau in IMiss Flush's room. I did not 
think it was at all worth while to trouble her by speaking 
with her first about it — we intended to make it into a shelf 
to put your curious old iron pots, sauce-pans and kettles from 
the kitchen on, and have it in the drawing-room — when 
Mahree was stopped and asked where she was going with it. 
Now, that I heard myself, there can be no tmo skies to that 
story — no intimation that Mahree was to blame — To day more 
trouble — more interfarence. Surely the girl is not all to 
blame — even if she does speak out upon her part, whicli I 
wouldn't believe she ever does, having been introduced to me 
by ]Mrs. Livingstone DePeyster Van Cortlandt. It must be re- 
membered that she is a foreigner, and that her hot southern 
blood flows more quickly than the cooler contents of veins 
grown in a temperate zone. 

J. Well, my dear madam, if you only knew how I had 
treasured this old dish — that it's all I've got left of grand 
aunt's things that I've — 

Mrs. S. {entirely ignoring J.) I say another instance of inter- 
ference has occurred to-day, and I propose to make a test or an 
example of it, and to have you decide once for all whether this 
sort of thing is to continue or not. 

Mr. Fl. Oh ! well, my dear madam, do not let us take this 
matter seriously, I am sure nothing will again happen to vex 
Jane, and we both are very sorry for what has happened, and 
we beg your pardon if you desire if, and 

Mrs. S. It is not what has happened, Mr. Flush, it is the 
principle of the thing for the future. It might as well be de- 
cided first as last, here and now. 

Mr. Fl. Well, my dear madam, I would suggest that in- 
stead of using this, of which Jane is really very fond, I should 
buy you something—much handsomer — to take its place on 
the wall. How would a Chinese pagoda or a large hat-bath — 
painted up prettily, do. Anything that Edith or you would 
select. Never mind the expense. 

Mrs. S. As I said before, sir, in this case I choose to make 
it a matter of principle and a final test. I insist, sir, that you 
decide between us — which of us shall have our own way as 



Act 2. J HOME, SWEET HOME. 45 

to this particular thing. I say That dish shall go where I 
expected to put it. A person whom I will not name saj's it 
shall not. 

J. But, my dear madam 

Mrs. S. My conversation is addressed to you, sir. 

Mr. Fl. Yes ; but, my dear madam, in this matter 

Mrs. S. In this matter, sir, there is nothing further to be 
said — not one word — except for you to decide which of the 
two ways of disposing of tliat paltry dish sliall be followed. 

Mr. Fl. But, my dear madam, if you will only listen — 

Mrs. S. I will listen to nothing, sir — except your answer 
— and be quick about it, too. 

Mr. Fl. (mronisly) Oh, dear ! Oh, dear! I don't like to 
say— my poor head is tired of it all. If I must — but I would 
rather not — I should say that sister, having had this old family 
relic so long, and it being her property, should be the one ti> 
say whether it should be used or not. 

Mrs. S. {angrily) I knew it. He is against me, too. He 
takes her part in everything — no matter who's right. That's 
tiie end of it. I shan't try any more to keep the peace between 
us. You two have made your own bed now — you can lie 
in it. 

Mr. Fl. But, dear madam — now don't get excited— mj- 
only desire is that we may all be happy here together — that 
you 

Mrs. S. That I — That's right, be sarcastic and ironical. 
Turn me into ridicule— make a jest and butt of mQ— {bursting 
into tears). Taunt me, slight me, insult me, trample on me — 
tear me limb from limb — ah ! oh ! — hum ! — {screams molently 
and prolonged) Ah — h — h — h ! {screams louder) Ah — h — h ! 

Elsie, {hurriedly) She's got one. Lewin, run and tell them 
to send up a pail of water quick, and I'll see if I can find pa. 
I thought you'd bring one on between you, you mean old 
things. {Goes out c, calling "Pa! Pa! Pa!") 

Mrs. S. {screams) Ah — h — h — h ! 

Mr. Fl. Oh ! dear, oh ! dear, it goes right through my 
head. Oh ! dear, who could have supposed anybody would 
have a temper like this ? 

J. I never did hear anything like this. 



46 HOME, SWEET HOME. [Act 2. 

Mrs. S. What is she saying ? Taunting me, insulting me 
to my face ! (screams) Ah — h — h — Let me get at her ; let 
me get at her old crockery ! I'll show her who she's got to 
deal with! 

(Rushes to table, seizes tureen, raises it in both 7iands over lier 
head as if to dash it to pieces. J. rushes to her.) 

J. Help ! help ! help ! She'll break it. 

Greene enters c, runs to her and holds left arm. Mr. S. runs 
in with Edith, Foktew, Elste and Bridget ; they gather 
around Mrs. S. Mr. S. ^ays hold of tureen. 

Mrs. S. (screams) Ah — h — h — h — h ! 

Mr. S. Yes, she's got one. (firmly) Stop, Matilda, stop. 
Hurry up that water. Send up two pails, one hot.^ 

Mrs. S. (controlling herself somezcJuit) No — no, Aristotle ; not 
7iot. I — I will try to behave. Where is Mahree. She isn't 
against me. Let her take me awaj', out of this room. I 
shall suffocate — choke— here. (Br. comes to her, and Mrs. S 
puts arm about her neck; they exit slowly c.) 

Br. All right, my angel. (Aside.) Ovvld pickle pot! 

Mr. FXi. (comj^letely exhausted — throirs hirnself back in chair) 
Oh! dear — dear! Never have I passed through such an ex- 
citement as this. I'm as weak as I can be. My head aches 
and is all confused. Oh ! dear. Oh ! dear. 

Mr. S. (good naturedly) Oh ! That's nothing when you get 
used to it. 

Mr. Fl. Has she ever acted so before V She isn't subject 
to such paroxj^sms, is she V 

Mr. S. No — I shouldn't say subject to them. She has 
them two or three times a week. Fortunately those she has 
had since she's been here, she's had up in our room. 

Mr. Fl. Oh ! my poor brain. I really think another such 
excitement would kill me (sees YonTKw who has taken seat at 
table and is looking over jmpers) Ah ! Fortew, I did not see you 
and Edie too. I haven't seen you, Edie, all the morning. 

Edith. No? You have managed to do pretty well with- 
out me. Worrying poor dear ma into one of her turns. 

Mr. Fl. Please don't turn against me, too, Edie. I have 
had worriment enough for one day. (leans head on hand 



Act 2.] HOME SWEET HOME. 47 

wearily ; J. standsby him and tries to soothe him bypassing hand 
over hair, &c.] 

Fort. Mr. Flush, I have brought the Will at last. It was 
my fault entirely that you have not had it sooner, But we 
have been rushed at the office. Will you execute it now or shall 
I come in again ? {rises tcith Will in hand and stands by Fl. ) 

Mr. Fl. Yes — yes — now ! I will be glad to have it done 
with. Another day like this would make it too late. (Fort. 
hurries himself at table) Where do I sign ? Opposite the seal? 
Fort. Yes. 

JMr. Fl. (signs) My hand trembles so I don't know whether 
it looks much like my signature or not. 

Fort. I will sign as one witness and Mr. Greene the other. 
(to Greene) You are of age, ain't you ? 
Greene (startled) Sir ? 
Fort. You are of age— twenty-one ? 

Greene (more frightened) No, sir. Yes, sir — but I don't 
want to be mixed up in any law things. 
Fort. Just be a witness here. 

Greene. I don't want to go say anything against this family 
(goes reluctantly to table). 

Fort. All I want you to do is to sign your name here — take 
this pen! {puts pen in Gr's hand) This is Mr. Flush's Will and 
he wants you to sign it. Do you not, Mr. Flush V 

Mr. Fl. Yes, this is my Will and I want you to witness it. 
Fort, (pointing) Sign your name and address there. 
Greene, (at icrorig place) Here? 
Fort, (impatiently) No, there ! 
Grerne. (again at wrong place) There ? 
Fort, (fiercely) No. there — there — there — where my finger 
is. I'd as lief have an idiot to deal with. 

Greene, (signs laboriously) Suppose ma's mad at my doing 
this ? 

Fort. Refer her to me! (folding up Will and looking at Edith 
significantly) There, the Will is signed, sealed and published. 
So that IS over with (has ichispered conference aside with Edith 
and Mr. S.) Yes, yes, I think you are right, now is a good 
time, (standing by side of Edith, l.) Having completed my ser- 
vices as your counsel in the matter of your Will, Mr. Flush, 1 



48 HOME, SWEET HOME. [Act 2. 

have now to announce to you that I appear as the attorney of 
this fair young person, your beloved wife. You must be well 
aware, sir, that you have reached that period of life when by 
common consent a man is incapable of properly taking care 
of himself or his property. An age, sir, when as everybody 
knows who has Jiged relatives with money, the mind has 
become uusound nud the person nou compos, or rather a lun- 
atic, as the law now calls hnn. For our law, sir, gently gathers 
under this sweet word all varieties of mental disease, unsound- 
ness and aberration, except the single one of idiocy, as the 
maternal goose gathers her downy goslings under her snowy 
quills. 

Mr. S. {admiringly to Editu) That's beautiful lanjjuage 
(aloud) Hear ! Hear ! 

Mr. Fl. {taking hands from liead and listening witJi interest) 
What do you mean by this FortewV Are you talking about 
me and in earnest ? 

FoiiT. I said " you " and I said " you--." Two words, short 
and easy of comprehension to a mind in its normal state, a 
brain not worn out or destroyed by the lapse of unnecessary 
years. To continue, my fair client, by her father as her next 
friend, and through me, as her attorney, has made an appli- 
cation to the court for an order tiiat a commission should be 
issued de luiiatieo inquirendo. 

Mr. S. That's beautiful language ! 

Fort. The application was made the very day after your 
wedding. We did not press tlie matter, as we desired to have 
your AVill first duly executed and in our possession. The 
order was obtained and entered. A commission has been 
•duly issued and I here and now serve the party proceeded 
against with the papers {handing voluminous papers to Fl.) 
that he -may at once prepare himself for his defense by retain- 
ing competent counsel. 

J. {sinking into chair by Yi's side) Tliis is the most extraor- 
dinary, the most dreadful, the most barbarous thing I ever 
heard of. 

Mr. Fl. Hush, Jane ! You do not read the papers daily or 
it would not seem so extraordinary to you, and we don't 
want any more scenes like that of to-day. So please be very 



Act 2.] HOME, SWEET HOME. 49 

quiet and respectful. May I ask, sir, what I have done to 
lead any one, least of all my wife here, to think me unsound in 
mind? I have as carefully conducted all my business affairs 
as at any time in the past. I don't think I have made any 
serious mistakes in them. My memory is good. I could now 
give you an exact inventory of all my investments and assets. 
I have prided myself that while my body was feeble and 
weakened a little by sickness, my mind was as strong and 
lucid as ever in my prime. Still I may have done some 
strange things without knowing it. If so, I should like to 
know what they are. 

Fort, {coldly) The affidavits attached to the Petition set 
forth all the facts in detail and I would suggest to the aged 
party that he should lose no time in placing the same in com- 
petent hands, that they may be properly explained to him. 
Appearing for his opponent it is not for me to give him in- 
formation, but still I will say thus much, that the principal 
ground on which we rely for an adjudication is his recent 
marriage with my client. That he, a feeble old octogenarian, 
should propose marriage to a child of the tender years of this 
fair flower, is a most convincing proof to her, as she alleges 
under oath, that the poor old superannuated party is — to put it 
mildly — mad. 

J. {exasperated) Do you mean to say that his wife goes into 
court and asks to have him adjudged a lunatic, as you dare to 
call it, because he married her? Oh, this is simply monstrous, 
monstrous — unnatural; too horrible to think of — 

Mr. Fl. There, there, Jane; don't add to this confusion. 
You see I am calm and — and — composed. I don't mind it. 
{Bursts into tears and weeps silently ; J. weeps by side ; Greene 
affected ; rest calm and unmoved.) 

Fort. I would once more suggest that the aged party pro- 
ceeded against should at once retain counsel, and he need not 
think that I am unduly or unusually interested in this case 
because of the unwonted comeliness of my client. The beauty 
of woman falls upon the judicial mind like the soft dropping 
of the dew upor. the everlasting adamant. 

Mr. S. Beautiful language! {Applauds slightly .) 

Mr, Fl. {sighing) Well, Fortew, I suppose I shall retain 
you. I don't know anyone else to go to as respectable. 



50 HOME, SWEET HOME. [Act 2. . 

Fort. Let us step aside, then, a few moments. (They retire 
up c. and consult.) 

Mr. S. {to Edith) His language reminds me a little of 
Uncle Aristotle's, and recalls to my mind an incident in his 
life. At a literary congress to which he belonged he began a 
sentence at a quarter before nine in the morning, and did not 
finish until ten minutes of three in the a'fternoon, and it was 
so beautifully constructed grammatically, that nobody knew 
when he got through it. One of the members who heard it 
made up his mind to parse it in six volumes, and publish 
them by subscription, but he only lived to complete three of 
them. I have them. (Mr. Fl. and Fort, come down st.; 
Fl. resumes seat and Fort, stands beside him.) 

Fort. I am retained by my aged friend to act as his coun- 
sel in this matter. He has requested leave to ask of the other 
side two or three questions. {Grosses to side of Edith) I am 
pleased to meet as my opposing counsel in this matter one in 
whose love of justice and desire to do right I have such im- 
plicit confidence. My fair client and her friends I am sure 
will gladly answer any questions that in the opinion of my 
learned friend are not unfair, 

Mr. Fl. Edith, when were these proceedings first suggested? 
Edith, {calmly) I think the evening you proposed to me — 
after you had gone home. 

Mr. Fl. {leaning forward eagerly) Who first suggested 
them ? 
Edith. Ma ! 

I^Ir. Fl. {greatly relieved). Thank heaven ! Have they now 
your full sanction? 
Edith. They have. 
Mr. Fl. Why do you desire it? 

Edith. Because it is right and just that it should be 
done. You have made your Will leaving everything to me, 
and I can't have my property risked and jeopardized by being 
under the control of a person of your great age. It would be 
injustice to me and to Pa who has had to pay for my school- 
ing and to Ma, who weaned me and trotted me so much in 
childhood's hour. Both of whom now feel that a comfort- 
able home has been provided for them for the rest of their 
lives. 



Act 2.J HOME, SWEET HOME. 51 

Mr. Fl. I would like to ask a question or two of Mrs. Short, 
who is not here. 

Mr. S. Elsie call your mother in if she can behave her- 
self ! 

[Exit Elsie c. Fort and Fl. confer ajxirt. Enter Mrs. S.» 
supported by Elsie and followed by Bridget. Mrs. S., catch- 
ing sight of tureen still on, table, screams and rolls her eyes vic- 
iously.] 

Mr. S. If you want to have any peace and quiet, you'll 
have to take that thing away and put it out of sight. (Jane 
'likes tureen and hurries out l icitJi it.) 

Fort. Mrs. Short will you kindly be seated; my respected 
client Mr. Flush, for whom at this moment I am speaking, 
desires to put a question or two to you, which (crosses to 
Edith) I, as representing your dear daughter, advise you that 
you may answer without danger of compromising our in- 
terests. 

Mrs. S. (ruefully) Well, sir ; I will answer if I can control 
myself. Mahree, hand me my salts — 

Mr. Fl. Mrs. Short, three months ago you gave me your 
full and free consent to marry your daughter ? (reenter J. . 
taking same place as before bes^ide Fl. ) 

Mrs. S. Of course ; you know I did. 

Mr. Fl. Mr. Fortew tells me you have sworn in an af- 
fidavit among these papers that you have known me as a 
neighbor for a long time, and that, of your own knowledge, I 
have been of unsound mind for more than two years. Is this 
true ? 

Mrs. S. Of course it is. You are 85. 

Mr. Fl. I am satisfied ; go on Fortew. 

Fort. My aged client requests me to say in his behalf that 
while perfectly certain that these proceedings are entirely 
unnecessary and uncalled for, and while feeling hurt that the 
same should have been instituted, he is unwilling that any 
scandal should be caused by them or publicity given to them. 
He desires me to say that he will not oppose the proceedings 
as instituted, but will, so far as possible, under the practice, 
consent to a formal adjudication, and the appointment of his 



52 HOME, SWEET HOME. [Act 2. 

wife as committee of both his person and estate. That he 
will retire to the peaceful little institution for the mentally 
afHicted, founded and conducted by his old friend, Dr. Leo- 
pold Haarbauer, where the use of the electrified bolster has 
been introduced. He feels, he tells me, that he has at most 
but a few years to live and would rather, I have no doubt, 
spend those years in a lunatic asylum than in the uninter- 
rupted society of his respected mother-in law— for, Mr. Flush, 
like the rest of us, is human — 

Mr. S. {to Edith) Beautiful language ! 

Fort, {crossing to Edith, ichispers) : My fair client perceives 
with pleasure that the spirit of concession and compromise is 
to pervade these proceedings, and on her part she will heartily 
reciprocate. She desires me to say she is not actuated by any 
personal dislike to her feeble partner. She will see that every 
moderate comfort consistent with the strictest economy is 
afforded him. Of course, he cannot expect to be indulged in 
luxuries or to have any particular consideration shown him, 
for he is well aware that he is one of those unfortunate in- 
dividuals who have outlived their use and usefulness. 

Mr. Fl. I shall only have one request to make when the 
time comes, and that is as to dear Jane, here — I want her, 
Edith to have every comfort and every luxury— I want her to 
have every wish gratified as long as I shall live, as well as 
after my decease, as provided for then in my will. 

J. {Greatly affected.) Nicholas, I can never be separated 
from you. We have lived together under the same roof 
seventy-eight years, boy and girl, man and woman, sister 
and brother, and do you think I could let you leave me, or 
that I could leave j'ou? No, brother dear, if you are a lunatic 
as they call it, so am I, and I really begin to believe we both 
are, when I hear and see such things as I have heard and seen 
this day, in this house. I feel that if the rest of the world 
of to-day be sane, we old folks are as mad as March hares ! 



Act 3.] HOME, SWEET HOME. 53 



ACT III. 

Scene. — Same as Act II; Some modern furniture introduced. 
Edith and Mr. S. discovered. 

Mr. S. Why, of course, we expected they'd go up— but in- 
stead, they've gone down— to nothing— to worse than nothing, 
for they're not worth a cent, and there's an assessment on each 
share to pay. 

Edith. Why, what happened to them? 

Mr. S. Oh ! some fellow made a Pad better than Haarbau- 
er's— no better perhaps, as an Electric Pad, but one you can 
use for a money belt, a valise, a camp-stool, a hammock, a bed 
quilt, a dressing gown and a life preserver, and it all sells for 
the same price as the doctor's. 

Edlth. Well, why don't the doctor improve on tliat ? 

Mr. S. He's a queer fellow, Haarbauer is ; always got some 
new hobby. Now he's getting up an explosive pill — to be 
swallowed while attached to a delicate electric wire, and fired 
off in the stomach — for headache. It will be some time yet 
before he can start a company. There'll be one prejudice 
against it from the first, to swallow anything with a long 
hair like attachment must inevitably recall the boarding-house 
dinner of experience, and of the two most people would pre- 
fer the headache. Well, the fact remains that we've put a 
deal of the old man's money where we'll never see it again. 

Edith {seriously). Well, Pa, I don't understand why if the 
stock of the Electric Pad Company has been worthless a month, 
as you say, you havn't sold it out to some of your friends, and 
let them bear the loss. It isn't like you not to have done it. 

Mr. S. Why, my dear, I did. I stuck all the friends I could 
just as soon as I found out where it was going ; but you can't 
go on doing that sort of thing forever where you have an un- 
limited amount of stock and a limited circle of friends. Your 
friends give out before the stock does. 

Edith. Well, I'm very, very sorry that we sold out those 
Government Bonds that we got from the Safe Deposit Com" 



54 HOME, SWEET HOME. [Act 3. 

pany at all. For they were pretty at any rate. Yet it seemed 
to sound business like when we talked it over. Sell the Bonds 
and buy Electric Pad Stock ; if we made anything, keep that 
ourselves ; if we lost anything put that down to the old man's 
estate on my account as his committee. Then when we ge* 
through buy back the bonds again. It sounded fair and just, like 
what I had read about in the papers that banks and companies 
were doing ; and now the money is all gone, and we have no- 
thing left to buy back the bonds with. What shall I put down 
on my account ? 

Mr. S. {cheerfully). Nothing. It's all simple enough Edie. 
It don't give me a moment's uneasiness. We've got his Will ; 
everything left to you. 

Edith. Yes, I know that. 

Mr. S. Well, he's very low, may die at any moment ; up at 
Haarbauer's asylum, where he has stayed constantly for ten 
months, he and his sister will know nothing about it, and 
when he's gone it will all be yours, and then no one will ever 
know anything about it except you and me, Edie and her Pa. 
It don't trouble me a bit. {singn) Trala-la-lum, tra-la-la-lum, 
la-lum-la-lum ! 

Edith {thoughtfully). Then when he dies I am the only one 
who could ever make a claim for those moneys ? 

Mr. S. That's it. Ha, ha ! Don't you see ; we're safe 
enough. 

Edith {thoughtfully). How much does the loss amount to ? 

Mr. S. About $75,000. Here, I've got a little memorandum 
of the exact amount {feels in pocket). No ; I've left it in my 
other coat ; shall I get it ? 

Edith. Yes, please. 

Mr. S. I wish we had a friend now, say just come home 
from Europe, and knew nothing about the company — some 
one who had perfect confidence in me — I'd just like to unload 
on him the rest of that stock ; we could get half our — that is 
— your, I mean — the old man's money back {exit k.). 

Edith. Oh, dear ! I wish there was no such thing as losing 
money or spending mouey, only getting it and keeping it, and 
knowing tliat you had more of it than your neighbors. That's 
the charm it has for me. 



Acts.] HOME, SWEET HOME. 55 

( Enter Ei.sie c. , sloioly, pale and weeping ; iJiroics herself down 
by Edith's side and buries her face in her lap and sobs con- 
■mlsively. ) 

Edith. There, there, Elsie ; you'll make yourself sick 
crying so much and eating nothing. It's four days now since 
you've been like yourself at all. 

Elsie (raising her head and looking sorroipfidly). ,Four days 
since he died, and almost one since we laid him in the tomb. 
Oh, my love, my love ! Edie, I want to thank you for letting 
us have the funeral here yesterday. 

Edith. Oh, you are welcome. ^ 

Elsie. It was a great comfort to me to have it and to see so 
many of his little friends attend it, and Mr. Xamm was so 
kind to come and officiate, and he spoke so beautifully ; and 
when the poetry came at the end of his remarks, as it's sure 
to come, 1 thought I should go into convulsions, and that 
poor little black-and-tan of the Woolwiddies seemed almost 
as much affected as I was ; he had to walk out into the hall 
to control himself. Mr. Namm sent me a copy of the verses 
this morning ; I almost know them by heart {looks off dreamily 
and recites mournfully). 

"Oh, voice of weeping, shrill, shrill! 
Oh, cup of sorrow, fill, fill ; 
Oh, bitter waters, spill, spill, 
For his little tail is still, still! " 

Edith. That sounds just like him. 

Elsie. Oh, my breaking heart ! Everything reminds me of 
him. Mr. Namm's moustaches have always had a great in 
fluence over me, but they now only recall those of my lost 
darling. In every other I see his shadow ; when Ma speaks I 
hear his snarl, and when I ste Lewin with his empty arms 
and unoccupied time, there comes afresh the words of doom 
"Mignonette is dead." {weep>s conmdsively .) 
Enter Bridget, l. 

Br. Say, Miss Elsie, the dress maker wants to try your 
mournin' waist on. now its baisted. * 

Elsie, {rising and drying her eyes) It is the only solace for a 
heart really broken — new clothes and the excitement of trying 
them on. 

Exeunt Elsie and Br., l., enter Greene r. c. 



56 HOME, SWEET HOME. [Act 3- 

Gr. Where's poor Elsie — 

Edith. Just this moment left me to seek consolation in the 
sewing room. 

Gr. {anxiously) Oh, Edie, do you think she'll really die of a 
broken heart ? she says she bets she will — I asked Ma — 

Edith, Well— 

Gr. She did'nt give me any particular satisfaction — 

Edith. What did she say? 

Gr. Well, she only said "fiddle de dee" which might 
mean slmost anything; I've got so 'I can keep step with Elsie 
when she is'nf tied back, and if she should go and die of a 
broken heart {weeps) who is there left in this family for me? 

Edith. Elsie is very much broken down and if she don't 
eat anything for a week or more, she may be carried off by a 
broken heart. 

Gr. Oh! is'nt there anything will save her? 

Edith. I think there is — I know Elsie pretty well— supply 
the old love with a new — get her another dog. 

Gr. I never thought of that — I'll do it if I can ; Ma's get- 
ting awful generous, she gave me a dollar this morning on 
my only asking twice. I was in hopes when Mignonette died, 
that maybe I could take his place, in time. 

Edith. (to'M^j') I hardl}' think so. Lewin. There is a natu- 
ral brightness and intelligence about a dog, that the young man 
of the period does not possess. I have read somewhere that a 
dog is never born without a brain; well now, I know myself 
ever so many young men, older than you are; brighter than 
you are, who were born without a speck. 

Gr. {pleased) you talk just like an own sister to me, Edie; 
I always like to listen to you ; you always make me feel as if 
I amounted to something, now Ma never pays me a com- 
pliment and I like them — every fellow does — well, I guess I'll 
go and see what I can do, and you need'nt let Elsie know I've 
been here. 

Exit c. , eritei- Mr. S. , R. , with paper in liand. 

Mr. S. There Edie, that's the account {hands it to her.) 
Edith, {looking it over) Is that all in your handwriting, Pa? 
Mr. S. {surprised) Yes — why? 



Act 8] HOME, SWEET HOME. 57 

Edith. Nothing— " $70,323.31.^' That's a good deal of 
money to lose. 

Mr. S. I know, but it's virtiiallj^ your own. 

Edith. That's what makes me feel the loss to be heavy. 

Mr. S. You don't seem to understand. 

Edith. Yes, I do. 

Mr. S. The old man may die any moment now — they say 
he's very low — no one allowed to see him. I'd have gone 
there to-day to inquire if I hadn't expected to go fishing; 
but he don't want to have any body even to inquire about 
him but you. 

Edith, {coldly) I went up last month and stayed nearly a 
quarter of an hour. He can't expect me to spend all my time 
there. I shall go up again when I finish the novel I'm read- 
ing — if I ever do — it's horribly dull. 

Mr. S. I don't suppose really he would have lasted any 
longer if we had let him alone, and taken no proceedings. 
One or two of your Ma's tantrums would have finished him. 
The one she had day before yi sterday for instance, when she 
pulled off the table-cloth and danced on the dessert. Stil', 
speaking of your Ma, I think she's improving. When we 
were first married I used to calculate 25 per cent, of my in- 
come to pay her breakage — this year it's been a mere trifle — 
to be sure it's been mostly among other people's things, so it 
don't count to me — still I think I can see an improvement. 

{Enter Bridget, i..) 

Br. Misther Short — Miss Elsie wants yer to come up 
shtairs quick, with some wather. She can't do nothin wid 
her Ma. The ould woman's got the tlriss-maker down and is 
a settin on top of her scraimin' loike mad. 

Mr. S. What's happened ? 

Br. Oh — she wants thray moore buttons on her mournin' 
than the pattern calls for. (S. Imrries out l.) 

Edith. Why Mahree, you h>ok tired ? 

Br. I'm that tired I could drop — I towld the waitriss I'd 
mind the front door while she wint to look at shwitches for 
her hid — and I've hed to go oncet alriddy. {Exit slowly v.. ; 
Haarbauer enters c, and comes down. ) 



58 HOME, SWEET HOME. [Act 3. 

Dr. Haaubauer. How you vas Mrs. Flush ? Is your vater 
and mutter at home ? 

EuiTii. Yes, doctor — any news ? 

Dr. H. {seriously) Pardon me, madam — but will you be so 
goot as to hev here mit you your parents. I hev an errant. 

Edith, (rising) I'll call pa — ma is not feeling very well. 

(Exit R.) 

Dr. H. Poor young ting. It es cruel, dot's vot it is. I 
vish dey hev some one else — to hev to say your husband ess 
gone. I hef not die heart ven die voman ess pretty. She 
look sheerful, but I know die vomen. Dey keep np mit a 
shmile till come die blow, und denn collpose mit a pop — faint, 
cry, shriek, pull die hair, tear die clothes. Oh ! I hev see 
dem und I vish it vere veil over. 

(Enter Mr. S. drying his hands with handkercliief folloiced by 
Edith.) 

Mr. S. Ah, doctor. How-d'ye-do. Mrs. S. will be 'down 
in a few minutes. She's changing her clothes — got wet acci- 
dentally a moment ago. What's the news ? How's our old 
friend ? 

Dr H. (eery solemnly) He lies — left us 

Edith, (brightly) Gone at last, eh? 

Dr. H. (solemnly) Gone — at last. 

Edith. WlII, Pa, you see I was right in having the mourn- 
ing under way a week ago . 

Mr. S. Yes, yes, you were quite right. 

Edith. We will have to bestir ourselves. There are a great 
many things I want done right away. Pa, you get word to 
Mr. Fortew to have whatever is necessary to be done about 
proving the Will attended to at once — not wait for anything. 
And I want him to get us rid of all this ' ' Committee." ' ' Com- 
mittee," nonsense! I'm in a hurry to write my owq name to 
-checks and things, -and to feel that ererything is really mine — 
mine — mine! 

Dr. H. (listening and regarding loitlt wonder) Veil, my gra- 
cious. Vot a hett dot iss for pisniss. 

Mr.-S. Well, I'll see Fortew at once. (Exit, c.) 

Edith. Now, I hope, doctor, you are not going to send 



Act 3.] HOME, SWEET HOME. 59 

me in some enormous bill for my husband's board, or for bis 
sister's. They say times are very hard ; and you must not for- 
get that three or four times we have sent up ice cream to them, 
when we had 'more for dessert than we could eat — I shall want 
all that credited. 

Dr. H. You vill not hef to tremble at my bills. (Aside.) 
Vot ahett! I must tink about her sister. My ,2;racious! 

Edith. And, doctor, if you can dispose of his clothes 
among the patients I should be glad — at fair prices. 

Dr. il. I vill do all I can to make die sorrow in your heart 
lighter to bear; I am your shlave. 

Edith. Would you take any more shares in your Electric 
Pad Company — toobligCr^me — (looking at him arcJdy). 

Dr. H. (bounding up) No — my gracious. Day hef made me 
already troubles enough. Vy do you ask? 

Edith. Pa's got some we'd like to dispose of — if you 
would 

Dr. H. Hes he no intimate frients? 

Edith. None that are without some of the stock he had. 
Enter Bridget, c. slowly and wearily. 

Br. Note for Mrs. Flush (hands same to Edith). I wish 
that gurl would get home. I'm tired out complately^this is 
the sicond toinie I've been. 

Edith, (amused icith reading (reads) " Dear Madam: Allow" 
me in the midst of j-our deep aifliction to call your attention 
to my new Sten oscopic Burial Casket, combining beautiful 
optical effects with simplicity of construction, well seasoned 
material and cheapness. Dr. Leopold Haarbauer endorses 
them. Eespectfully, Hiram Shrowder." Whut is it. doctor? 

Dr. H. You vant von not. Day is goot for dose who vish 
to make show of die carcase. Die casket in die edge of die lid 
hef many pair of glass like die stereoscope, und die parties 
marching^ round look droo. It brings out die features und 
die embroider}' goot enuff — but som^ fellow hef a later pa- 
tent mit improvements — I forget liis name. He hef die 
glasses, und schmall vires und a crank, und you look droo — 
und turn die crank, und it schmile, und vinks, und nod its 
hett, goot enuff But I like not dese tings. Ven you hef ted 
— bury you ted ; ven you vish shows, buy a menagerie. 



60 HOME, SWEET HOME. [Act 3. 

Edith. Yes, but doctor be says it combines cheapness with 
the optical effects. 

Dr. H. Dey cost more dann die odders. 
Edith. Then we certainly don't want one. 

Enter Mr. S. Fokv. followed by '^'Lxs. S.,icho appears to be 
subdued, and Elsie. 

Edith. Mr. Fortew, I suppose Pa has told you what I 
wanted you to do ? 

Foot. Yes ; he met me on my way here. The fact is I am 
placed in a somewhat peculiar position. I am unexpectedly 
retained this morning by — you can't guess who ? 

Dr. H. I can guess who not ; it wasn't me — my gracious — 
never again. 

Fort. Miss Jane Flush. 

Edith, {excitedly) Miss Jane Flusli— what for? 

Fort. To prevent you from proving the Will of her late 
deceased brother, on the ground that the same is null, void 
and of no effect. 

Dr. H. Anoder vill gone ; my gracious ! 

Edith, {excitedly) Why that is ridiculous ; you drew it. 

Mr. S. {excitedly) And Mr. Flush signed it ; I saw him and 
heard him declare it to be Ms Will. 

Elsie, {lugubriously) And Lewin witnessed it ; L saw him, 
and held my lost darling while {bursts into tea)'s). 

Fort. Notwithstanding all that, speaking as the counsel 
for my aged and esteemed client, sister of the deceased, I am 
compelled to say that the Will so drawn, so executed and so 
witnessed is null and void, not wortli the paper it is written 
upon. 

Dr. H. Dat is die beauty uv a two-sided lawyer ; never vill 
I hef vun in my pisniss again. 

Edith. Well ; tell us what you mean. How is the Will 
made void ? {impatiently) Don't be so slow ; be explicit! 

Fort, {calmly and with deliheration) Acting in the interest 
of Miss Flush, an opposing party, it would not be profes- 
sional in me to explain our position — to use a figure drawn 
from a very respectable calling, to show our hand before the 
kad be made. 1 shoi Id advise the parties concerned to re- 



Act 3.] HOME, SWEET HOME. 61 

'tain competent counsel and in that way obtain what informa- 
tion they require. 
Mr. S. Well, Edie, I suppose we had better. 

Edith rises and calls Fortew aside and liolds icMspeivd con- 
versation with him, tlien returns and takes Iter seat. 

Fort. Being retained by this fair young widow, whose 
pale cheek and tearful eyes should melt the heart of everlast- 
ing adamant 

]\Ir. S. {to Edith) Beautiful language ! 

Fort. I hasten to explain what my learned friend on the 
other side, out of feelings of professional etiquette, had to de- 
cline to elucidate. You will all remember that we applied 
for an order that a commission should issue in lunacy before 
the W^ill in question was executed ; that after its execution we 
obtained without opposition an adjudication in the lunacy 
proceedings. The Will then was executed pe7iding the pro- 
ceedings. You follow me? 

Edith. That's plain enough. 

Fort. Now, our Appellate Court has recently decided that 
the adjudication in lunacy relates back to the commencement 
of the proceedings, and that every act done by the lunatic, 
after such commencement, is null, void and of no effect. You 
follow me? ' 

Mr. S. {disgusted) You should have known this. It was 
your business to see that no such blunder was made. You 
charged for it, and got paid for it — handsomely, too. 

Fort. At the time this occurred our Appellate Court held 
just the other way, so far as any testamentary acts pending ad- 
judication were concerned. 

Mr. H. Peautiful tings dese dree^die law — die court — die 
lawyer. Here come the vizard mit some monish. Now he 
say. my friend, you see it, and now — you don't. Where is it ? 
in de law ? No. In die court ? No. Ah — so it is — in the 
pocket of die lawyer. 

Edith. This is dreadful — all that will be left for me will be 
a share in the estate, as if no will had^been made. Well, thet is 
something. I shan't be without consolation. . 

Fort, {stepping to other side of table) I am now speaking as 



62 HOME, SWEET HOME. [Act 3. 

the attorney for the aged maiden, Miss Flush, again. She is 
very much incensed, she says, at the conduct of certain par- 
ties in connection with the estate of her deceased brother. She 
has gone so far as to call these parties adventurers. She has 
instructed me lo take immediate steps to compel the Committee 
of the deceased lunatic to account for all the property which 
has come into her possession. She has informed me that 
large sums have been wasted, and large amounts lost in 
hazardous investments sufficient in the aggregate to offset any 
share to which the Committee, as widow, would be entitled 
under the Statute. I would like to hear from my learned 
friend on the other side upon the subject {crosses to Edith). 
I can only say to my learned brother who has expressed a wish 
that he should hear from me on the subject of a proposed ac- 
counting by the Committee of the person and estate of the de- 
ceased that I have not yet been retained in the same, that it is 
an entirely distinct matter from that of the Will in which I 
appear, and unless specially retained, I 

Edith, {impatiently) I retain you — I retain you — tell us what 
to do. 

Fort. As your counsel in those proceedings also, I should 
certainly advise you to compromise if possible, and I will con- 
fer with my learne d friend. 

Dr. H. Ah! I tout it was time to hear about some compro- 
mises, my gracious. 

Edith. It seems to me the outlook is desperate. I will take 
the reins into my own hands and save every dollar that I can. 
Here, Mr. Fortew, I retain you also to take immediate proceed, 
ings to collect for me the sum of |76,o23.21 from my dear 
Pa, here, being for moneys intrusted to him to invest safely, 
and lost by him as 1 shall claim in a careless and negligent 
manner by being put into the stock of the Electric Pad Com- 
pany, which is now worthless. There is the account {handing 
it to Fort.). I have taken the precaution to obtain an admis- 
sion from Pa that it is in his own handwriting. I would at- 
tach his bank account and any property of his you can find. 

Mr. S. {astonished) Goodness gracious, Edie, you don't 
mean this. Why, you are my favorite daughter. No par- 
tiality you know, but you and I have always, somehow, been 
peculiarly attached to one another, and 



Act 3.] HOME, SWEET HOME. 63 

Edith. That is all true Pa, and I love you as much now as 
I ever did. But this is a crisis for me, and I have to act ac- 
cordingly. I have often heard you say you never allowed 
feeling to stand in the way of business, and my first duty, as 
you have always shown me by your precept and example, is to 
myself. , 

Mr. S. (amazed) "Well, I never expected to have Edie — 
turn on me. Well, I'll have to fight it. Do you think I am 
liable, Fortew, when she knew what I was doing, and 

Fort, (with dignity) Pardon me, sir. I do not have the 
pleasure of representing you in this matter. I should advise 
you to retain competent counsel without delay. 

Mr. S. Oh! confound it. Come \wvQ {inalks off Ij. and holds 
whispered' conference with Fort.). 

Dr. H. I should tink dot man get so mixed up mit his re- 
tainers und his parties und his learned frients that he would 
be crazy, my gracious. 

Mr. S. {coming down worried to Mrs. 8.) Matilda, you've got 
a pretty clear head for business. What do you advise? 

Mrs. S. {looking up icith feigned surprise) Me! oh, nothing. 
lam nobody, a cipher. I ventured to make a simple sugges- 
tion once about it and was snapped at and insulted and 
abused for it. I gently suggested that Elsie was best fitted 
for the position of wife to this dead old man, but I was 
silenced. Edith must do it. She was the eldest, and the fa- 
vorite, and now you see — just as I told you. I foresaw it all 
all these blunders. I could have named them beforehand. I 
knew Edith would make them, for she takes after her Pa. 
Elsie would never have made a mistake of this kind, would 
you, my dear? 

Elsie, {who has been buried in grief looks up sadly) Oh! 
don't speak to me. Ma. What do I care wliat I would or 
would not have done. My heart is broken. 

Mrs. S. I wash my hands of all responsibility in this matter 
— you two have got us into the trouble, and I expect you two 
to get us out. {Exit, loftily, c.) 

Edith. It seems like some dreadful dream. For nearly a 
whole year I have had control of so much money, which I 
felt was and treated as my own, and it has unfitted me for 



C4 HOME, SWEET HOME. [Act 3. 

any other life. And to be left with only what I can get out of 
Pa. off the $76,000 ! If I get hold of eveiything he's got. I 
don't believe it will pay twenty per cent, of it. 

Dr. H. Veil, you vill hef to dry again. Another mar- 
riage. 

Edith. Yes. I have tlyaught of that myself. 

Enter Bridget, c, with floicers and letter. 

Br. Nosegay and note for Mrs. Flush {giving them). I won- 
der if that gurl ain't niver comin' back. That makes thray 
toimes, and I'm almost did. {E.vit, c,, icearily.) 

Edith, {putting flowers on table) This is almost the worst of 
it. Flowers and condolences, mourning and funeral all to be 
gone through with ; and we expected to be just as much af- 
fected, to the nak'cd ej'^e, as if we cared, or the Will was to 
stand, or I was to have all I have hoped for, worked for, and 
earned. (0/><?«.s letter indifferently, tlien reads same eagerly, and 
icith apparent e.vcitement calls S. aside and holds whispered con- 
ference ; he seems delighted.) Dr. Haarbauer, I wish to see 
you a moment. Mr. Fortew, I am sure, will excuse me if I 
ask him please to step into the other room for a moment. 

Fort. With pleasure, my dear madam. It will give me an 
opportunity of entering up on my memorandum book just ex- 
actly what parties I represent. {Exit.) 

Edith. Elsie, dear, would you mind ? 

Ei-siE. {going solemnly) All places are equally gloomy and 
desolate to me, now. The only one more inviting than the 
other is the tomb. {E.rit, c, slotcly.) 

Mr. S. Well, this is ihe most extraordinary thing — read 
the letter, Edie, aloud. 

Edith. I knew the handwriting. {Reads.) "My darling 
wife ; one year ago to-day I asked you to be mine." So it 
is just a j'ear, I had forgotten the date. "I cannot let the 
anniversary go by without showing you that it is a pleasant 
memory to me. Accept these flowers as token — and now to 
business. I have caused a false report of my sickness and 
death to reach you. With sister's aid I have imposed a little 
on old friend Fortew in order that I mi^ht show you in what 
a position you would be placed should anylhiug happen to 



Act 3.] H03IE, SWEET HOME. 65 

me while under the ban of the court as to my sanitj'. I have 
consulted the most eminent authoritj- on the law in such 
cases (not Fortew), and am advised that I alone can initiate 
proceedings to properly luido what has been done. I stand 
ready to do this, ready to confirm my will as made in every 
particular; ready to forget all that is past, ready to give, 
without a question, a full release and discharge to my Com- 
mittee and to her father and bear the loss of the money sunk 
and expended (about which I know all), without a word of 
complaint. I will go home to live, provide you, so long as I 
live, with everything heart can desire, in short make a fresh 
start upon our married life in every particular upon one con- 
dition, that you and 1 shall henceforth have our home to 
ourselves, that is so far as the members of your family are 
concerned, and that I should be the head of my own house- 
hold. I will take your promise that this condition will be 
fulfilled and allow a reasonable time to carrj^ it out. Your 
ever loving husl)and — Nicholas. P. S. — We await your an- 
swer in a carriage at the gate. If favorable I will see you at 
onoe." {Sternly to Dr. H.) Dr. Hnarbauer, what did you 
mean by telling a deliberate untruth ; that Mr. Flush was 

dead ? 

Dr. H. My tear mat am, I beg your pardon ; I tell you 
noting of die sort ; I told you dot Mr. Flush have — left — us — 

anil so he hed dis morning in a carriage mit his sister. 
Edith. Well, Pa ? 
Mr. S. Oh, we'll go — only be too glad to get out of such an 

infernal scrape so easily. I'd send word out at once to have 

them come in. 

Edith. But Ma 

Mr. S. Well, Ma will have to go. We'll go to her at once 

while she's feeling the subduing influence of the crystal 

shower. I guess you better order up a pail or two more, so 

we can have them handy. {Kreunt Edith and Mr. S. c.) 

Dr. H. I enfy dot old Flush— Dot gurl hef a hett twenty 

year olter denn her body. {Enter Fortew, l.) 

Fort. Mr. Short said you were alone and had something 

to tell me. 
Dr. H. Yes, dake a sliare. Hev you got all die parties vat 

you represent down in your book ? 



66 HOME, SWEET HOME. I Act 3. 

Fort. I tliink so, and I call it a pretty good day's work, too. 
Eleven distinct retainers. 

Mr. H. My gracious, you are a shmart fellow, und all grow 
out of vun dead old man, eh? 

Fort. Yes — that's one great beauty of our profession — it's 
like a scrap of mushroom spawn — you may gather a basket 
full from it. 

Dr. H. {meditatirely) Vun dead old man, eh ? My gracious ! 

Fort. Yes. Isn't it beautiful to see a structure rise up thus 
from a single foundation stone? 

Dr. H. Und ef die old man hedn't died, all dis pisniss vould 
not be— eh ? 41 

Fort. Of course not. *| 

Dr. H. How much you make von all dis ? 

FoHT. Oh ! thousands of dollars. 

Dr. H. Is dot so ? You are a shmart man, my gracious ! 
You remember vunce — now more dann vun year ago — here i 
in dis room you tell me dot in your opinion eligdricity in 
medicine vas a hombogs, und I got mad— you remember dot ? 

Fort. I remember tldnking so, and I haven't altered my 
opinion. 

Dr. H. Dot's all right — I know a lawyer vill shtick to his 
opinion until it pays to sliange it. Only now, I dell you vot, 
dis — •' hombogs " — hev done. It hev sheated a lawyer out of 
eleven dishtinct retainers, it hevshpoiled his goot day's vork — 
it hev put out die fire vot die little shpark kindle — it hev rob 
bed dis goot man — dis shmart mon of tousends of thallers, 
for it hev kept alive die man out of whose death all dese 
mushrooms grow, it hev kep him hale and hearty, and lively, 
my gracious — ha! ha! ha! 

Fort. Now, what in the world do you mean ? 

Dr. H. Die peautiful shtructure vot rise from vun founda- 
tion shtone collopse. 

Fort. You don't mean to say— — 

Dr. H. Dot's joost vot I means to say,— Mr. Flush is— not 
— tedd. He has never been tedd. By dis time— he is— in 
dis very house 

Fort, {antouished) How did you find that all out ? 

Dr. H. I hef known it all die time. Oh ! my gracious, 



Act 3.] HOME, SWEET HOME. 67 

netfer did I tink I lif to see die day venn could be fooled die 
judicial mind. But I hev seen him und now, vot lief I 
more to lif for — notings ! oh — ha! ha! ha! my gracious. 

Fort, (angrily) Oh! keep still your laughing. This is an 
outrage. An actionable imposition. It's a — a — but I don't 
understand. Tell me all about it. 

Dr. H. {imitating Fort's manner) My aged f rient being die 
counsel for the opposing interest it vood not be right for me, 
nor could ray learned frient exshpcct me, to give him any in- 
formations for nottings. He petter go hire some counsel und 
dcnn ve get togedder und make some compromises may be — 
ha! ha! ha! my gracious! 

Fort. Pshaw. Haarbauer, you're too hard. You never 
have forgiven me for settling that case of yours. I hear 
some one coming. Let's go into the other room and then tell 
me all about it. There are sherry and crackers there. 

Dr. H. Vot sherry ? Die dark color ; 'vot ve used to hef ? 

Fort. Yes, the same. 

Dr. H. Veil, den, 1 forgive you dis time. (Exeunt r.) 

Enter c, Mrs. S., Mr. S., Mr. Flxjsh, Jane and Edith. 

Mrs. S. (speaking as they come in), I cannot, I cannot ; I am 
willing to make every sacrifice for my child that I can ; will 
ing to go away from here, as I say, to give up all the little 
conveniences and luxuries of this my home ; to forego my 
cherished plans and scliemes for your happiness. But, when 
you ask me to promise that I will let your affairs entirely alone, 
not to attempt any interference, you ask an impossibility. 
" What does the little flower of Spring, when soil and water 
fail ? It dies poor, little thing 1" And so would I ; and so 
would any mother. I don't ask much. Let me come here 
and interest myself five days a week and I will be content. 

Mr. Fl. (looking at Jane, who sliakes her head) No, Mrs. 
Short, that cannot be after all that has transpired. 

Mrs. S. (plaintively) Four days ! 

Mr. Fl. Come, come Matilda ; be reasonable for once. 

Mrs. S. (glaring at S.) Thank you, Aristotle, for your kind- 
ness to her who weaned you — I mean your children — (to Fl.) 
Three days. 

Mr. Fl. (looking 3., who shakes her head) No, no, no, Mrs* 



68 



HOME, SWEET HOME. [Act 3. 



Short. It has taken me ten mouths to make up my mind, and 
I will be firm. 

Mrs. S. {plaintively) Two days. Two are not many. Two 
into seven— three and one over. Spare me two days. 

Mr. Fl. {looking at J.; same business) No, Mrs. Short; we 
really can't allow it. 

Mrs. S. {after a struggle with herself) Alas, then, one day? 

Mr. Fl. and J. lohisper together. 

Mr. Fl. Well, Mrs. Short, 

Mrs. S. Call me mamma, Nicholas. 

Mr. Fl. We will agree to th>it. Jane and I have promised 
to spend every Friday at the asylum with some very pleasant 
people, some very sane lunatics we have met there. We 
shall leave here about ten in the morning and return about 
three in the afternoon. And on those days and between 
those hours you may understand that you are free to come 
here and "interest "yourself, as you call it, in our affairs. 
You will not interfere with the servants. 

J. Nor disturb the furniture. 

Mr. .Fl. Nor exhibit any violent paroxysms of temper. 

J. Nor touch anything that we may keep under lock and 

key. 

Mr. Fl. We shall only expect to see you at other times on 
special invitation. This has your approval, Edith? 

Edith. Yes, Nicholas. 

Mr. Fl. {to Mrs. S.) Is it a bargain ? 

Mrs. S. {regretfully) Well, sir, it is a hard bargain. But 
having another daughter who may marry soon, and thus open 
up a new field for the exercise of my lego-maternal longings 
— I consent and promise. 

Mr Fl. {with sigh of relief) We are perfectly satisfied. 

Enter Elsie, hurriedly, c, carrying Buou, and followed by 
Greene. 
Elsie. Oh ! Ma. Oh ! Pa. Oh ! Edie. I've got a new dog. 
{Enter Dr. H. and Fort, r.) My broken heart is mended 
and my sorrows are over. 

Greene. And she loves him already. 

• Elsie. A hvindred thousand million billion ^trillion times 
more than I ever loved Mignonette. 



Act 3.] HOME, SWEET HOME. 69 

Dr. H. My gracious ! How long hev you bed him to get 
so much lof ? 

Elsie. IJim is a her, and I've had her five minutes. 

Dr. H. Vot a constitution hev die heart, of a girl, my 
gracious ! 

Fort. Well, excuse me ; I have some business still, 

I'm on both sides in the old Watkins' W.ll. 

By will he'd left a headstone for his grave ; 

They fight the Will the price of it to save. 

The last time that I saw ihe son — alone — 

He said t'was rather costly fur a stone. {Exit c.) 

Dr. H. Well, I believe him ; I moost say goot day — 

Undto my laboratory based avay {to audience). 

My frients, soon vill I hev shtuck all around some bills. 

Vot advertise mit pictures, my new pills, 

Exshplode vun in your sl^tomach effery night. 

Dey'U knock your headache higher dann die kite. {E.rit c.) 

Greene {to Elsie) : Ma told me to go early. 

Elsie. Don't go 3'et — 

I wan't your handkerchief, for Bijou's nose is wet. 

(Gn gives it to her and she uses it on Bijou's nose.) 

Say zank ou. Bijou, to zoo own papa. 
He's got to go, for he must mind his Ma. 

(Holds np Bijou, and Greene takes paic, tfec.) 

Mr. S. {to audience) Well, we must leave you ; we have got 

tct pack, 
And you'll be gone before we can get back. 
Come on, Matilda. 

Mrs. S. {stepping forward) Stop, I wish to speak. 
They've cut my meddling down to once a week. 
I think, however.I'U presume to say. 
They'll find that one a pretty lively day 

J. {aside) To pack ? I hope it is not acting mean. 

But I'll go watch the spoons and souptureen. 

{Keeps eye 071 Mr. and Mrs. S. , who are in conversation). 



70 HOME, SWEET HOME. [Act. 3. 

Mr. Fl. {standing by Edith) I feel as strong as ever— all my 

aches have fled 
Thanks to magnetic bolster and galvanic bed. 
Edith, you love me ; let me take your hand. 

Edith {hesitating, putting hands behind her) Well, Nicholas • 

your Will shall surely stand ? 
And every penny shall be left to me ? 

Mr. Fl. Yes, darling ; rot one word shall altered be. 

Edith, {giving hand Then, there's my hand, and I icill try 
To like you, just a little, till you die ; 
But, please, dear Nicholas, do not get so strong ; 
You'll keep on living no one knows how long. 

Mr. Fl. {gayly) Well, there's no knowing, we boys used to say, 
Where 'ere there is a will there is a way. 

Edith. Oh ! that old proverb's much improved in part. 
Now, where there is a Will, there is a Heart. 

Mr. Fl. and Edith. 
J- Mr. S. 

Elsie. Mrs. S. 

Gr. 

Curtain. 



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